The Arena, 28. köide

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Arena Publishing Company, 1902

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Page 159 - When thou makest a dinner or a supper, call not thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbours; lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense be made thee. But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind: and thou shalt be blessed; for they cannot recompense thee: for thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just.
Page 160 - Neither was there any among them that lacked : for as many as were possessors of lands or houses sold them, and brought the prices of the things that were sold, and laid them down at the Apostles' feet : and distribution was made unto every man according as he had need.
Page 319 - how long, O cruel nation, Will you stand, to move the world, on a child's heart, Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation, And tread onward to your throne amid the mart? Our blood splashes upward, O gold-heaper, And your purple shows your path ! But the child's sob in the silence curses deeper Than the strong man in his wrath.
Page 160 - And the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and of one soul : neither said any of them that aught of the things which he possessed was his own } but they had all things common.
Page 554 - I but open my eyes, — and perfection, no more and no less, In the kind I imagined, full-fronts me, and God is seen God In the star, in the stone, in the flesh, in the soul and the clod.
Page 307 - Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, — And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows; The young birds are chirping in the nest; The young fawns are playing with the shadows ; The young flowers are blowing...
Page 360 - We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Page 118 - Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
Page 365 - Genius mildly flash'd, and high debate. How soon that voice, majestic and elate, Melted in dying numbers ! Oh ! how nigh Was night to thy fair morning. Thou didst die A half-blown flow'ret which cold blasts amate. But this is past : thou art among the stars Of highest Heaven : to the rolling spheres Thou sweetly singest : nought thy hymning mars, Above the ingrate world and human fears.
Page 163 - Wherefore it is lawful that he should have one wife, and they twain shall be one flesh, and all this that the earth might answer the end of its creation, 17.

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