The Ladies' Repository, Band 27

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A. Tompkins., 1859
 

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Seite 390 - I will sing unto the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously: The horse and his rider hath he thrown into the sea. The Lord is my strength and song, And he is become my salvation: He is my God, and I will prepare him an habitation; My father's God, and I will exalt him.
Seite 361 - And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow out of his roots: and the spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the LORD...
Seite 264 - THE stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand ! Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land. The deer across their greensward bound, Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream.
Seite 202 - By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed ; and he went out, not knowing whither he went.
Seite 361 - The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the falling together; and a little child shall lead them.
Seite 116 - And yet we never attend to it, we never make it a subject of thought, but as it has to do with our animal sensations ; we look upon all by which it speaks to us more clearly than to brutes, upon all which bears witness to the intention of the Supreme, that we are to receive more from the covering vault than the light and the dew which we share with the weed and the worm, only as a succession of meaningless and monotonous accident, too common and too vain to be worthy of a moment of watchfulness,...
Seite 198 - The wild flowers who will stoop to number ? A few can touch the magic string, And noisy Fame is proud to win them ; Alas for those that never sing, But die with all their music in them...
Seite 312 - Parian wreaths; A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn; Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate A tapering turret overtops the work. And when his hours are numbered, and the world Is all his own, retiring, as he were not, Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work, The frolic architecture of the snow.
Seite 297 - Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself: God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week. I give tithes of all that I possess.
Seite 437 - If on our daily course our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures still, of countless price, God will provide for sacrifice.

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