The Rag-picker: Or, Bound and Free

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Mason Brothers, 1855 - 431 páginas
 

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Página 169 - The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: Listen! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder - everlastingly. Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year; And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not.
Página 186 - Jerusalem shall be inhabited as towns without walls for the multitude of men and cattle therein: for I, saith the Lord, will be unto her a wall of fire round about, and will be the glory in the midst of her.
Página 26 - He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity...
Página 194 - It might be months, or years, or days, I kept no count — I took no note, I had no hope my eyes to raise, And clear them of their dreary mote...
Página 77 - Which when it least appear'd to melt, Intently thought — intensely felt : The deepest ice which ever froze Can only o'er the surface close — The living stream lies quick below, And flows — and cannot cease to flow.
Página 321 - Weep not for her ! — It was not hers to feel The miseries that corrode amassing years, 'Gainst dreams of baffled bliss the heart to steel, To wander sad down age's vale of tears, As whirl the...
Página 201 - I'll tell thee a part Of the thoughts that start To being when thou art nigh; And thy beauty, more bright Than the stars' soft light, Shall seem as a weft from the sky.
Página 406 - WE live in deeds, not years ; in thoughts, not breaths ; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives, Who thinks most ; feels the noblest ; acts the best.
Página 185 - Save that there was no sea to lave its base, But a most living landscape, and the wave Of woods and cornfields, and the abodes of...
Página 326 - He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend. Eternity mourns that. 'Tis an ill cure For life's worst ills, to have no time to feel them. Where sorrow's held intrusive and turned out, There wisdom will not enter, nor true power, Nor aught that dignifies humanity.

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