The works of Thomas Moore, 8. köide

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Page 157 - And the angel which I saw stand upon the sea and upon the earth lifted up his hand to heaven, and sware by him that liveth for ever and ever, who created heaven, and the things that therein are, and the earth, and the things that therein are, and the sea, and the things which are therein, that there should be time no longer...
Page 167 - The sun shall be no more thy light by day; neither for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee : but the Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light, and thy God thy glory.
Page 165 - Lift up thine eyes round about and see : all they gather themselves together, they come to thee : thy sons shall come from far, and thy daughters shall be nursed at thy side.
Page 166 - Surely the isles shall wait for Me, and the ships of Tarshish first, to bring thy sons from far, their silver and their gold with them, unto the Name of the LORD thy GOD, and to the Holy One of Israel, because He hath glorified thee.
Page 163 - COME, ye disconsolate ! where'er ye languish, Come to the mercy-seat, fervently kneel: Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish ; Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal. 2 Joy of the desolate, light of the straying, Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure ! Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying, Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure.
Page 59 - They tell us of an Indian tree Which, howsoe'er the sun and sky May tempt its boughs to wander free, And shoot and blossom wide and high, Far better loves to bend its arms...
Page 54 - When first our scanty years are told, It seems like pastime to grow old ; And, as Youth counts the shining links, That Time around him binds so fast, Pleased with the task, he little thinks How hard that chain will press at last. Vain was the man, and false as vain, Who said...
Page 164 - Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal. Joy of the desolate, Light of the straying, Hope, when all others die, fadeless and pure, Here speaks the Comforter, in GOD'S name saying — " Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure.
Page 111 - Can it possibly be ? — half amazement — half doubt, Pat listens again — rubs his eyes and looks steady ; Then heaves a deep sigh, and in horror yells out, " Good Lord ! only think, — black and curly already...
Page 136 - Though haply o'er some of your brows, as o'er mine, The snow-fall of time may be stealing — what then ? Like Alps in the sunset, thus lighted by wine...

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