The casket of poesy [ed. by J. Cole].John Cole 1827 |
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Стр. 14
John Cole. This day , be bread and peace my lot : All else beneath the sun , fif Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not , And let thy will be done . To thee , whose temple is all space , Whose altar , earth , sea , skies ! One chorus let ...
John Cole. This day , be bread and peace my lot : All else beneath the sun , fif Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not , And let thy will be done . To thee , whose temple is all space , Whose altar , earth , sea , skies ! One chorus let ...
Стр. 18
... Beneath the spacious temple of the sky , In adoration join ! and , ardent , raise One general song ! To Him ye vocal gales , . Breathe soft , whose Spirit in your freshness breathes ; Oh talk of Him in solitary glooms , Where , o'er the ...
... Beneath the spacious temple of the sky , In adoration join ! and , ardent , raise One general song ! To Him ye vocal gales , . Breathe soft , whose Spirit in your freshness breathes ; Oh talk of Him in solitary glooms , Where , o'er the ...
Стр. 19
... breath perfumes you , and whose pencil paints . Ye forests , bend , ye harvests , wave , to Him ; Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart , As home he goes beneath the joyous moon , Ye that keep watch in heaven , as earth asleep 19.
... breath perfumes you , and whose pencil paints . Ye forests , bend , ye harvests , wave , to Him ; Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart , As home he goes beneath the joyous moon , Ye that keep watch in heaven , as earth asleep 19.
Стр. 40
... WEEK PRIOR TO THE DEATH OF THE AUTHOR As blooms the violet ' neath the thorn , Or lily of the vale ; So bloom'd my friend in life's gay morn , As sweetly and as frail , When sickness came , the flowers decay'd Beneath the noxious 40.
... WEEK PRIOR TO THE DEATH OF THE AUTHOR As blooms the violet ' neath the thorn , Or lily of the vale ; So bloom'd my friend in life's gay morn , As sweetly and as frail , When sickness came , the flowers decay'd Beneath the noxious 40.
Стр. 41
John Cole. When sickness came , the flowers decay'd Beneath the noxious breeze And in the hallow'd spot was laid , A faded form like these . Yet say not here Antonio lies Beneath the valley's clod- The soul that knew o'er earth to rise ...
John Cole. When sickness came , the flowers decay'd Beneath the noxious breeze And in the hallow'd spot was laid , A faded form like these . Yet say not here Antonio lies Beneath the valley's clod- The soul that knew o'er earth to rise ...
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
adore angels art thou balm beam beauteous beauty Behold Beneath blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath Bridlington bright calm celestial cheerful chorus clouds coursers dark death deep divine dost dread dust to dust Earth to earth EDMESTON eternal ev'ry fade fair flood flowers gloom glorious glory glow grace green hail Hark hath heart heaven HERMIONE hills HINDERWELL hope hour HYMN Israel Lamb light Lord lyre midnight hour moon morn murmurs NATIVE SCENES nature's neath night o'er Ocean plain pow'r praise Queen of fragrance reign rill rise roar roll round Saviour SCARBOROUGH scenes shades shine sing sithe skies smiles soft song sorrow soul sound spring Star of Bethlehem storm streams sweet swell tempest thee thine thro throne thunder Thy mercy tomb tremble vale voice wand'ring warbling waves wild winds wing wond'rous youth
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Стр. 5 - THE Lord my pasture shall prepare, And feed me with a shepherd's care ; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye ; My noonday walks he shall attend, And all my midnight hours defend.
Стр. 23 - Thus wondrous fair : thyself how wondrous then, Unspeakable ! who sitt'st above these heavens To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels : for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night Circle his throne rejoicing ; ye in heaven, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
Стр. 12 - What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This teach me more than hell to shun, That, more than heav'n pursue. What blessings Thy free bounty gives, Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives, To enjoy is to obey.
Стр. 15 - Hark ! hark ! to God the chorus breaks, From every host, from every gem ; But one alone the Saviour speaks, It is the star of Bethlehem.
Стр. 22 - tis nought to me; Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste as in the city full; And where he vital breathes, there must be joy.
Стр. 115 - His steps are not upon thy paths— thy fields Are not a spoil for him— thou dost arise And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth — there let him lay.
Стр. 4 - And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth; Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings, as they roll And spread the truth from pole to pole.
Стр. 4 - T^HE spacious firmament on high, •*• With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim. Th' unwearied Sun from day to day Does his Creator's power display; And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty hand. Soon as the evening shades prevail, The Moon takes up the wondrous tale ; And nightly to the...
Стр. 20 - As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, Ye constellations, while your angels strike, • , Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. Great source of day! best image here below Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide, From world to world, the vital ocean round, On nature write with every beam His praise.
Стр. 19 - ... impetuous song, and say from whom you rage. His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills ; And let me catch it, as I muse along. Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound; Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze Along the vale ; and thou, majestic main, A secret world of wonders in thyself, Sound His stupendous praise ; whose greater voice Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall. Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers, In mingled clouds to Him ; whose sun exalts,...