Palestine, and Other Poems

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H.G. Clarke and Company, 1843 - Всего страниц: 140
 

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Стр. 122 - 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. 130 - I have trodden the winepress alone ; and of the people there was none with me : for I will tread them in mine anger, and trample them in my fury ; and their blood shall be sprinkled upon my garments, and I will stain all my raiment.
Стр. 114 - 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. 122 - 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. 36 - Earth's utmost bounds confess their awful sway, The mountains worship, and the isles obey ; Nor sun nor moon they need, — nor day, nor night ; — God is their temple, and the Lamb their light : And shall not Israel's sons exulting come, Hail the glad beam, and claim their ancient home ? On David's throne shall David's offspring reign, And the dry bones be warm with life again.
Стр. 121 - And he carried me away in the spirit to a great and high mountain, and shewed me that great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God, having the glory of God...
Стр. 120 - 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. 63 - Oh ! welcome came the cheerful morn, to show The drifted wreck of Zoan's pride below ; The mangled limbs of men — the broken car — A few sad relics of a nation's war : Alas, how few ! — Then, soft as Elim's well, The precious tears of new-born freedom fell. And he, whose harden'd heart alike had borne The house of bondage and th...
Стр. 32 - O'er his still breast a tearful fervour stole, And softer sorrows charm'd the mourner's soul. Oh, lives there one, who mocks his artless zeal — Too proud to worship, and too wise to feel ? Be his the soul with wintry reason blest, The dull, lethargic sovereign of the breast ! Be his the life that creeps in dead repose, No joy that sparkles, and no tear that flows ! Far other they who rear'd yon pompous shrine, And bade the rock with Parian marble shine.
Стр. 36 - And who is He ? the vast the awful form, Girt with the whirlwind, sandal'd with the storm ? A western cloud around his limbs is spread, His crown a rainbow, and a sun his head. 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...

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