English Sacred Poetry of the Sixteenth, Seventeenth, Eighteenth, and Nineteenth CenturiesRobert Aris Willmott Routledge, Warne, & Routledge, 1863 - 387 Seiten |
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Seite 12
... blood ? Yet nought Thou ask'st in lieu of all this love , But love of us for guerdon of Thy pain ; Ay me ! What can us less than that behove ? Had He required life of us again , Had it been wrong to ask His own with gain ? He gave us ...
... blood ? Yet nought Thou ask'st in lieu of all this love , But love of us for guerdon of Thy pain ; Ay me ! What can us less than that behove ? Had He required life of us again , Had it been wrong to ask His own with gain ? He gave us ...
Seite 22
... me through Thy beams of Love , Whilst on this Couch of Tears I lie ; And cleanse my sordid soul within By Thy Christ's blood , the Bath of Sin . A HYMN TO MY GOD . No hallow'd Oils ,. A HYMN TO MY GOD . THE DIRGE OF THE FAMOUS . 22.
... me through Thy beams of Love , Whilst on this Couch of Tears I lie ; And cleanse my sordid soul within By Thy Christ's blood , the Bath of Sin . A HYMN TO MY GOD . No hallow'd Oils ,. A HYMN TO MY GOD . THE DIRGE OF THE FAMOUS . 22.
Seite 32
... blood in danger gathers to the heart t ; As men seek towns , when foes the country burn . If aught can teach us aught , affliction's looks , Making us pry into ourselves so near , Teach us to know ourselves beyond our books , Or all the ...
... blood in danger gathers to the heart t ; As men seek towns , when foes the country burn . If aught can teach us aught , affliction's looks , Making us pry into ourselves so near , Teach us to know ourselves beyond our books , Or all the ...
Seite 42
... blood . DEATH . DEATH , be not proud , though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful , for thou art not so ; For those , whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow , Die not , poor Death , nor yet canst thou kill me : From rest and sleep ...
... blood . DEATH . DEATH , be not proud , though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful , for thou art not so ; For those , whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow , Die not , poor Death , nor yet canst thou kill me : From rest and sleep ...
Seite 47
... blood ; the way prepar'd To heaven , and those long - chainèd doors unbarr'd . How infinite Thy mercy ! which exceeds The world Thou mad'st , as well as our misdeeds ! Which greater reverence than Thy justice wins , And still augments ...
... blood ; the way prepar'd To heaven , and those long - chainèd doors unbarr'd . How infinite Thy mercy ! which exceeds The world Thou mad'st , as well as our misdeeds ! Which greater reverence than Thy justice wins , And still augments ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Angels beams beauty behold beneath bless blest breast breath bright brow cheerful clouds cold crown dark dead death deep DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB dost doth dread dreams dust dwell earth earthly Ebenezer Elliot Edmund Cartwright ELEGY WRITTEN eternal fair faith fear flowers George Crabbe gloom glorious glory grace grave grief hand Harrison Weir hast hath heart Heaven heavenly hill holy hope hour HYMN J. D. Watson life's light live look Lord mind morn mountains night o'er pain peace PENATES praise prayer PRAYER OF SOLOMON rest rise round sacred shade shine sigh silent sing sleep smile soft solemn song sorrow soul spirit spring stars STEPHEN'S DAY storm sweet tears tell tempest Thee thine things Thomas Chatterton Thomas Warton Thou art thought thro tomb Twas unto Vex'd voice wave winds wings wonder
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 27 - Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the...
Seite 233 - And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? — GOD! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, GOD!
Seite 178 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear : Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Seite 182 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favorite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; "The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Seite 101 - These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty ! Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair ; Thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable ; who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Seite 102 - His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Join voices, all ye living souls ; ye birds, That singing up to heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.
Seite 68 - IN the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart and sick in head, And with doubts discomforted, Sweet Spirit, comfort me...
Seite 102 - Rising or falling still advance his praise. His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and, wave your tops, ye Pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Seite 252 - Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed...
Seite 326 - BY Nebo's lonely mountain, On this side Jordan's wave, In a vale in the land of Moab There lies a lonely grave. And no man knows that sepulchre, And no man saw it e'er, For the angels of God upturned the sod, And laid the dead man there.