The Year-book of the Country; Or, The Field, the Forest, and the Fireside

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H. Colburn, 1850 - Всего страниц: 445
 

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Стр. 224 - Thou visitest the earth, and waterest it: thou greatly enrichest it with the river of God, which is full of water: thou preparest them corn, when thou hast so provided for it.
Стр. 178 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege Through all the years of this our life, to lead From, joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith that all which we behold Is...
Стр. 278 - He looks and laughs at a' that. A prince can mak' a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a' that; But an honest man's aboon his might, Guid faith, he mauna fa' that! For a
Стр. 159 - Come on therefore, let us enjoy the good things that are present : and let us speedily use the creatures like as in youth. Let us fill ourselves with costly wine and ointments : and let no flower of the spring pass by us : Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds, before they be withered...
Стр. 445 - New-year, blithe and bold, my friend, Comes up to take his own. How hard he breathes! over the snow I heard just now the crowing cock. The shadows flicker to and fro: The cricket chirps; the light burns low; 'Tis nearly twelve o'clock.
Стр. 85 - I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago, (whether in the body, I cannot tell; or whether out of the body, I cannot tell: God knoweth;) such an one caught up to the third heaven.
Стр. 361 - Wherever two or three are met together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.
Стр. 26 - He giveth snow like wool : He scattereth the hoarfrost like ashes. He casteth forth His ice like morsels : Who can stand before His cold? He sendeth out His word, and melteth them : He causeth His wind to blow, and the waters flow.
Стр. 278 - Whose fire was kindled at the prophet's lamp, The time of rest, the promised Sabbath, comes. Six thousand years of sorrow have well nigh Fulfill'd their tardy and disastrous course Over a sinful world ; and what remains Of this tempestuous state of human things Is merely as the working of a sea Before a calm', that rocks itself to rest...

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