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angels bear beauty better blessed blind bliss blood BORN BORN A.D. bright bring cause Christ church crown dark dear death delight DIED DIED A.D. divine dost doth dust earth entered eternal face faith fall Father fear field flowers give glorious glory God's grace grave grows hand hast hath head hear heart heaven heavenly hell holy hope HYMN John keep King known leave light live London look Lord mind move never night once pain pass peace pleasure poems poet poor praise present received rest rise sacred serve shine sight sing sins sleep soul spirit spring strong sweet Tell Thee Thine things Thou Thou art thought throne true truth unto wait
Seite 63 - Give me my scallop-shell of quiet, My staff of faith to walk upon. My scrip of joy, immortal diet, My bottle of salvation, My gown of glory, hope's true gage; And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
Seite 63 - EVEN such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with age and dust ; Who in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days ; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust.
Seite 64 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Seite 177 - And throws the melons at our feet; But apples, plants of such a price, No tree could ever bear them twice. With cedars chosen by His hand From Lebanon He stores the land; And makes the hollow seas that roar Proclaim the ambergris on shore.
Seite 86 - A guest, I answer'd, worthy to be here : Love said, You shall be he. I, the unkind, ungrateful ? Ah, my dear, I cannot look on thee.
Seite 86 - I the unkind, ungrateful ? Ah my dear, I cannot look on thee. Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, Who made the eyes but I ? Truth, Lord, but I have marred them : let my shame Go where it doth deserve. And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame ? My dear, then I will serve.
Seite 86 - THE merry world did on a day With his train-bands and mates agree To meet together, where I lay, And all in sport to jeer at me. First, Beauty crept into a rose ; Which when I pluckt not, Sir, said she, Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those ? But thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.
Seite 60 - Tell charity of coldness. Tell law it is contention. And as they do reply. So give them still the lie. Tell fortune of her blindness, Tell nature of decay, Tell friendship of unkindness, Tell justice of delay. And if they will reply, Then give them all the lie.