Sacred Poetry: Consisting of Selections from the Works of the Most Admired Writers
Отзывы - Написать отзыв
Не удалось найти ни одного отзыва.
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
angels art thou Babylon beams beauty behold beneath BERNARD BARTON blessed blest bliss BOOK OF JOB breast breath bright calm CAROLINE FRY Christ clouds dark death deep delight DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB divine dost doth dread dream dust dwell earth eternal ev'ry evermore faith Father fear feel flesh flowers glorious glory God's grace grave grief hand hath heart heaven heavenly holy hope HYMN JOHN CLARE King life's light live Lord lyre mercy mighty mind morn mortal mountains mourn night o'er pain peace pleasure pow'r praise prayer pride rapture rest rill rise sacred Satan Saviour seraphs shade shine silent sing skies sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit spring star star of Bethlehem sweet tear tempest thee thine things thou art thou hast Thou shalt thought throne Twas unto voice waves weary weep winds
Стр. 89 - The rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the rose; The moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare; Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
Стр. 89 - No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the echoes through the mountains throng, The winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay; Land and sea Give themselves up to jollity...
Стр. 94 - Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Стр. 179 - THESE, as they change, Almighty Father, these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of Thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring Thy beauty walks, Thy tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; And every sense, and every heart is joy.
Стр. 247 - This is the month, and this the happy morn Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.
Стр. 367 - God loves from whole to parts : but human soul Must rise from individual to the whole. Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake ; The centre mov'd, a circle straight succeeds, Another still, and still another spreads ; Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace ; His country next, and next all human race ; Wide and more wide, th...
Стр. 248 - But he her fears to cease, Sent down the meek-eyed Peace ; She, crowned with olive green, came softly sliding Down through the turning sphere, His ready harbinger, With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing: And, waving wide her myrtle wand, She strikes a universal peace through sea and land.
Стр. 253 - And sullen Moloch fled, Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of blackest hue ; In vain with cymbals' ring They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue : The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.
Стр. 334 - Our vows, our prayers, we now present Before thy throne of grace : God of our fathers ! be the God Of their succeeding race. 3 Through each perplexing path of life Our wandering footsteps guide ; Give us each day our daily bread, And raiment fit provide. 4- O spread thy covering wings around, Till all our wanderings cease, And at our Father's loved abode, Our souls arrive in peace.
Стр. 182 - Or if you rather choose the rural shade, And find a fane in every sacred grove ; There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, Still sing the God of Seasons as they roll. For me, when I forget the darling theme, Whether the blossom blows, the Summer ray Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams, Or Winter rises in the blackening east, Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat...