Memorials of ... Francis Oliver Finch [by E. Finch] with selections from his writings

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Стр. 274 - Throughout the universe, whatever exists, exists not so much for its own sake, as for the sake of something higher and nobler than itself.
Стр. 38 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Стр. xi - My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth; But higher far my proud pretensions rise,— The son of parents passed into the skies!
Стр. 216 - ... those springs and everlasting fountains and depths of glory for ever. And indeed the conceit of the contrary is foolish. Is not Christ the head, and we the members ? And do not the members receive their whole light, guidance, and wisdom from it ? Is not he also the price, the ground, and bottom of our happiness, both in this world and that which is to come ? And is it possible it should be forgotten, or that by it our joy, light, and heaven should not be made the sweeter to all eternity ? Our...
Стр. 125 - Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet ; whence he blew Soul animating strains, alas ! too few.
Стр. 270 - ... and when he washed his disciples' feet, meant something not very generally understood, perhaps, in the nineteenth century. Now, manual labour, though an unavoidable duty, though designed as a blessing, and naturally both a pleasure and a dignity, is often abused, till, by its terrible excess, it becomes really a punishment and a curse. It is only a proper amount of work that is a blessing. Too much of it wears out the body before its time ; cripples the mind, debases the soul, blunts the senses,...
Стр. 270 - He that will not work according to his faculty, let him perish according to his necessity: there is no law juster than that.
Стр. 122 - O that I had wings like a dove, then would I flee away and be at rest — Ps.
Стр. 346 - On the twenty-seventh of August, 1862, the old Society of Painters in Water Colours lost, in Mr. Finch, one of their earliest members, who had long enjoyed, in the highest degree, their confidence and esteem, and the warm affection of such as had the pleasure of knowing him intimately. He was the last representative of the old school of landscape-painting in water-colours...
Стр. 5 - A primrose by the river's brim, A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more.

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