The Open Door: Sermons and Prayers

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Press of Wm. B. Burford, 1892 - 438 Seiten
 

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Seite 423 - Thou seemest human and divine, The highest, holiest manhood, thou: Our wills are ours, we know not how; Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
Seite 419 - I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou Shouldst lead me, on. I loved to choose and see my path ; but now Lead Thou me on ! I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will : remember not past years.
Seite 423 - Strong Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove...
Seite 346 - There they stood, ranged along the hill-sides — met To view the last of me, a living frame For one more picture ! in a sheet of flame I saw them and I knew them all. And yet Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set And blew. " Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.
Seite 425 - OH yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life shall be destroy'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Seite 420 - Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, Even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God.
Seite 275 - I, to comfort him, bid him a' should not think of God, I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. So a' bade me lay more clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone; then I felt to his knees, and so upward, and upward, and all was as cold as any stone.
Seite 424 - As sometimes in a dead man's face, To those that watch it more and more, A likeness, hardly seen before, Comes out — to some one of his race : So, dearest, now thy brows are cold, I see thee what thou art, and know Thy likeness to the wise below, Thy kindred with the great of old.
Seite 425 - How pure at heart and sound in head, With what divine affections bold Should be the man whose thought would hold An hour's communion with the dead. In vain shalt thou, or any, call The spirits from their golden day, Except, like them, thou too canst say, My spirit is at peace with all.
Seite 421 - How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God ! how great is the sum of them. If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand: when I awake, I am still with thee.

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