Euston Hall: A Tale

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J. Powell, 1834 - Всего страниц: 183

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Стр. 137 - LORD, we beseech thee, grant thy people grace to withstand the temptations of the world, the flesh, and the devil, and with pure hearts and minds to follow thee the only God; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Стр. 46 - Pure Religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and the widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.
Стр. 138 - I venerate the man whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit lucid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause.
Стр. 3 - Why should an epic or a tragedy be supposed to hold such an exalted place in composition, while a novel is almost a nickname for a book ? Does not a novel admit of as noble sentiments — as lively description — as natural character — as perfect unity of action — and a moral as irresistible as either of them ? I protest, I think a fiction containing a just representation of human beings and of their actions — a connected, interesting, and probable story, conducting to a useful and impressive...
Стр. 66 - To-day though gales propitious blow, And Peace soft gliding down the sky Lead Love along and Harmony, To-morrow the gay scene deforms ; Then all around The thunder's sound Rolls rattling on through heaven's profound, And down rush all the storms.
Стр. 130 - And ye shall be hated of all men for my name's sake : but he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved.
Стр. 94 - Lonely, I no longer roam, Like the cloud, the wind, the wave ; Where you dwell shall be my home, Where you die shall be my grave. Mine the God whom you adore, Your Redeemer shall be mine ; Earth can fill my soul no more, Every idol I resign.
Стр. 156 - Give sorrow words ; the grief that doth not speak, Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.
Стр. 138 - His shepherd voice, his eye of fire ! His ashes rest in yonder urn ; — I saw his death ; — I closed his eye ; Bright sparks amidst those ashes burn, That death has taught me how to die. Long be our Father's temple...
Стр. 88 - Will summon those whom he hath chosen, to sit In garments dyed with their own blood around The Lamb in Heaven ; but it becomes not man To affect with haughty and aspiring violence The loftiest thrones, ambitious for his own, And not his Master's glory. Every star Is not a sun, nor every Christian soul Wrapt to a seraph.

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