Oxford prize poems, a collection of English poems. [Uncorrected]

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Стр. 87 - And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. 'And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it; for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.
Стр. 72 - And the house, when it was in building, was built of stone made ready before it was brought thither : so that there was neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of iron heard in the house, while it was in building.
Стр. 87 - Thus saith the Lord God unto these bones : Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you and ye shall live, and I will lay sinews upon you, and will bring up flesh upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live, and ye shall know that I am the Lord.
Стр. 73 - And when all the children of Israel saw how the fire came down, and the glory of the Lord upon the house, they bowed themselves with their faces to the ground upon the pavement, and worshipped, and praised the Lord, saying, For he is good ; for his mercy endureth for ever.
Стр. 58 - Where now thy might which all those kings subdued? No martial myriads muster in thy gate; No suppliant nations in thy Temple wait; No...
Стр. 87 - To highest heaven he lifts his kingly hand, And treads at once the ocean and the land ; And hark ! his voice amid the thunder's roar, His dreadful voice ! that time shall be no more ! Lo ! cherub hands the golden courts prepare ; Lo ! thrones...
Стр. 85 - And I will multiply the fruit of the tree, and the increase of the field, that ye shall receive no more reproach of famine among the heathen.
Стр. 66 - While Israel's sons, by scorpion curses driven, Outcasts of earth, and reprobate of heaven, Through the wide world in friendless exile stray, Remorse and shame sole comrades of their way, With dumb despair their country's wrongs behold, And, dead to glory, only burn for gold.
Стр. 88 - Hark ! white-robed crowds their deep hosannas raise, And the hoarse flood repeats the sound of praise ; Ten thousand harps attune the mystic song, Ten thousand thousand saints the strain prolong ; " Worthy the Lamb ! omnipotent to save, Who died, who lives, triumphant o'er the grave ! " EUROPE: LINES ON THE PRESENT WAR.
Стр. 85 - Not built in murder, — planted by the sword : Yes, Salem, thou shalt rise : thy Father's aid Shall heal the wound his chastening hand has made ; Shall judge the proud oppressor's ruthless sway, And burst his brazen bonds, and cast his cords away.

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