The Grey House at Endlestone

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J. Clarke, 1877 - 543 Seiten
 

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Seite 357 - Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle. A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull, Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold.
Seite 498 - We have but faith: we cannot know, For knowledge is of things we see; And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness: let it grow. Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.
Seite 469 - All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow, All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing, All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience ! And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom, Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured,
Seite 97 - There are in this loud stunning tide Of human care and crime, With whom the melodies abide Of the everlasting chime ; Who carry music in their heart Through dusky lane and wrangling mart, Plying their daily task with busier feet, Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.
Seite 558 - I will sing unto the Lord as long as I live : I will sing praise to my God while I have my being. My meditation of Him shall be sweet : I will be glad in the Lord.
Seite 426 - Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn; happier than this, She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; Happiest of all is, that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Seite 345 - No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode (There they alike in trembling hope repose), The bosom of his Father and his God.
Seite 119 - ST. AGNES' Eve! — Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold...
Seite 420 - Wooer light makes fickle troth— Scorn of me recoils on you. Learn to win a lady's faith Nobly, as the thing is high ; Bravely, as for life and death- With a loyal gravity.
Seite 119 - FOR EVER with the Lord!" Amen! so let it be! Life from the dead is in that word, 'Tis immortality. Here in the body pent, Absent from Him I roam, Yet nightly pitch my moving tent A day's march nearer home.

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