Sacred Poems

Clark, Austin & Smith, 1859 - 256 Seiten

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Seite 231 - And I shall be glad to go ; For the world, at best, is a weary place, And my pulse is getting low : But the grave is dark, and the heart will fall In treading its gloomy way ; And it wiles my heart from its dreariness, To see the young so gay.
Seite 23 - But now he is dead; why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.
Seite 103 - Then were there brought unto him little children, that he should put his hands on them, and pray : and the disciples rebuked them. But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me : for of such is the kingdom of heaven.
Seite 71 - THE waters slept. Night's silvery veil hung low On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies curled Their glassy rings beneath it, like the still, Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse. The reeds bent down the stream : the willow leaves, With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide, Forgot the lifting winds ; and the long stems, Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse Bears on its bosom, quietly gave way, And leaned, in graceful attitudes, to rest.
Seite 7 - The voice was like the mastertone Of a rich instrument, most strangely sweet, And the dull pulses of disease awoke, And for a moment beat beneath the hot And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. " Helon, arise !" and he forgot his curse And rose and stood before him.
Seite 153 - Thou hast a few names even in Sardis which have not defiled their garments; and they shall walk with me in white: for they are worthy.
Seite 8 - Helon! arise!" and he forgot his curse, And rose and stood before him. Love and awe Mingled in the regard of Helen's eye As he beheld the stranger. He was not In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow The symbol of a princely lineage wore ; No followers at his back, nor in his hand Buckler, or sword, or spear — yet in his mien Command sat throned serene, and if he smiled, A kingly condescension graced his lips, The lion would have crouched to, in his lair.
Seite 8 - And lo ! the scales fell from him, and his blood Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins, And his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow The dewy softness of an infant's stole. His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down Prostrate at Jesus
Seite 5 - Depart! depart, 0 child Of Israel, from the temple of thy God, For he has smote thee with his chastening rod, And to the desert wild, From all thou lov'st, away thy feet must flee, That from thy plague his people may be free.
Seite 73 - The soldiers of the king trod to and fro, Clad in the garb of battle ; and their chief, The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier, And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly, As if he feared the slumberer might stir.

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