The Spectator

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T. Cadell and W. Davies, 1811

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Page 39 - Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep : All these with ceaseless praise his works behold Both day and night.
Page 374 - The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me : and I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy. I put on righteousness, and it clothed me : my judgment was as a robe and a diadem. I was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame. I was a father to the poor : and the cause which I knew not I searched out.
Page 374 - If I did despise the cause of my manservant or of my maid-servant when they contended with me ; what then shall I do when God riseth Up? and when he visiteth, what shall I answer him ? Did not he that made me in the womb, make him ? and did not one fashion us in the womb...
Page 324 - ... that throngs of people no sooner broke through the cloud, but many of them fell into them. They grew thinner towards the middle, but multiplied and lay closer together towards the end of the arches that were entire. There were indeed some persons, but their number was very small, that continued a kind of hobbling march on the broken arches, but fell through one after another, being quite tired and spent with so long a walk.
Page 324 - Examine now, said he, this sea that is bounded with darkness at both ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in it. I see a bridge, said I, standing in the midst of the tide.
Page 105 - What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous; and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Page 373 - OH THAT I were as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me; When his candle shined upon my head, and when by his light I walked through darkness...
Page 323 - I had ever heard. They put me in mind of those heavenly airs that are played to the departed souls of good men upon their first arrival in Paradise, to wear out the impressions of the last agonies, and qualify them for the pleasures of that happy place.
Page 334 - A man so various that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts and nothing long ; But in the course of one revolving moon Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Page 257 - There is not, in my opinion, a more pleasing and triumphant consideration in religion than this, of the perpetual progress which the soul makes towards the perfection of its nature, without ever arriving at a period in it.

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