Memorials of a Consecrated Life: A Biographical Sketch of John Landels, Missionary in Genoa |
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appearance attend beautiful become believe blessed brother called Christ Christian church close cloth colour connection course Crown dear death desire door early England especially evangelist express Father feel foreign formed four friends Genoa give Gospel half hand head heard heart held hope hour hundred interest Italian Italy John kind labours Landels leave less letter light live London look Lord matter means meeting miles mind minister mission missionary months morning Naples natural never night opened pass pray prayer preach present priests received regard Rome round sala seemed seen sermon short side Signor Society soon speak standing streets Sunday sure tell things thought took turn walk walls week whole wish young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 37 - LORD, how manifold are thy works ! in wisdom hast thou made them all : the earth is full of thy riches. 25 So is this great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts. 26 There go the ships : there is that leviathan, whom thou hast made to play therein.
Seite 88 - If thou forbear to deliver them that are drawn unto death, and those that are ready to be slain ; if thou sayest, "Behold, we knew it not;" doth not he that pondereth the heart consider it? and he that keepeth thy soul, doth not he know it? and shall not he render to every man according to his works?
Seite 8 - Happy is that people, that is in such a case: yea, happy is that people, whose God is the Lord.
Seite 233 - The pains of death are past; Labor and sorrow cease ; And, life's long warfare closed at last, His soul is found in peace. Soldier of Christ, well done ! Praise be thy new employ ; And, while eternal ages run, Rest in thy Saviour's joy.
Seite 233 - The voice at midnight came; He started up to hear ; A mortal arrow pierced his frame — He fell, but felt no fear.
Seite 43 - What is that mother ? The eagle, boy ! Proudly careering his course of joy, Firm, on his own mountain vigour relying, Breasting the dark storm, the red bolt defying ; His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun, He swerves not a hair, but bears onward, right on. Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine, Onward and upward, and true to the line.