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Andrew Marvell angels ask'd beams beauty beneath Bernard Barton blessed blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath bright calm clouds dark dead dear death delight despair divine doth dream dwell earth earthly Edmeston eternal fair faith farewell fear flowers friends Giles Fletcher gloom glorious glory grace grave grief H. F. Lyte hath heart heaven Heaven's open heavenly holy hope hour Jehovah Jesus land life's light live lone Lord love ye mercy mighty Wanderer morn mountains nature's ne'er night o'er Oh Mercy pass'd peace praise prayer pride raptured raven's nest rise round Sabbath saints Saul the king Saviour seem'd shine sigh sing sink to thy skies sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit star Star of Bethlehem storm stream sweet tears tempest thee thine thou art thou hast thought throne thundering bands tomb voice weep wild wings
Page 234 - Philosophy, baptized In the pure fountain of eternal love, Has eyes indeed; and viewing all she sees As meant to indicate a God to man, Gives him his praise, and forfeits not her own.
Page 134 - It was my guide, my light, my all, it bade my dark forebodings cease ; and through the storm and danger's thrall it led me to the port of peace. Now safely moored — my perils o'er, I'll sing, first in night's diadem, for ever and for evermore, the Star— The Star of Bethlehem...
Page 179 - Abide with me from morn till eve, For without Thee I cannot live : Abide with me when night is nigh, For without Thee I dare not die.
Page 131 - Die he, or justice must; unless for him Some other able, and as willing, pay The rigid satisfaction, death for death.
Page 279 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh ; The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
Page 47 - But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. Afid there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail: And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Page 47 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Page 180 - Come near and bless us when we wake, Ere through the world our way we take : Till, in the ocean of Thy love, We lose ourselves in Heaven above ! John Keble.