The Life-line of the Lone One: Or, Autobiography of the World's Child

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B. Marsh, 1858 - 310 Seiten
 

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Seite 27 - Like the vase, in which roses have once been distilled — You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will. But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
Seite 285 - And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold : Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, " What writest thou ?" The vision raised its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord.
Seite 259 - FAIR flower, that dost so comely grow, Hid in this silent, dull retreat, Untouched thy honied blossoms blow, Unseen thy little branches greet: No roving foot shall crush thee here, No busy hand provoke a tear. By Nature's self in white arrayed, She bade thee shun the vulgar eye, And planted here the guardian shade, And sent soft waters murmuring by; Thus quietly thy summer goes, Thy days declining to repose.
Seite 18 - Tis the still water faileth ; Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth ; Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth ; Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. Labor is glory ! — the flying cloud lightens ; Only the waving wing changes and brightens ; Idle hearts only the dark future frightens ; Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune...
Seite 18 - Labor is glory ! — the flying cloud lightens ; Only the waving wing changes and brightens ; Idle hearts only the dark future frightens : Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune ! Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us, Rest from all petty vexations that meet us, Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us, P^est from world-sirens that lure us to ill.
Seite 234 - We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most — feels the noblest — acts the best.
Seite 286 - Nay, not so," Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellowmen.
Seite 18 - Droop not, though shame, sin, and anguish are round thee! Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee ; Look to you pure heaven smiling beyond thee ; Rest not content in thy darkness, a clod ! Work — for some good, be it ever so slowly ; Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly; Labor ! — All labor is noble and holy ; , Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God.
Seite 59 - It moved so sweetly to the west. I saw two summer currents Flow smoothly to their meeting, And join their course, with silent force, In peace each other greeting ; Calm was their course through banks of green, While dimpling eddies played between.
Seite 18 - Labor is worship !" — the robin is singing; " Labor is worship !" — the wild bee is ringing : Listen ! that eloquent whisper upspringing Speaks to thy soul from out Nature's great heart. From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower ; From the rough sod blows the soft-breathing flower ; From the small insect, the rich coral bower; Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his part.

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