Hours at Home, Band 11

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Charles Scribner & Company, 1870
 

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Seite 59 - Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Little lamb, I'll tell thee; Little lamb, I'll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For He calls Himself a Lamb. He is meek, and He is mild, He became a little child. I a child, and thou a lamb,...
Seite 55 - When the Sun rises, do you not see a round disk of fire somewhat like a guinea?" "O no, no, I see an innumerable company of the Heavenly host crying, 'Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty".
Seite 96 - SKETCHES OF CREATION. Sketches of Creation: a Popular View of some of the Grand Conclusions of the Sciences in reference to the History of Matter and of Life. Together with a Statement of the Intimations of Science respecting the Primordial Condition and the Ultimate Destiny of the Earth and the Solar System. By ALEXANDER WINCHELL, LL.D., Professor of Geology, Zoology, and Botany in the University of Michigan, and Director of the State Geological Survey.
Seite 59 - My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O! my soul is white. White as an angel is the English child: But I am black as if bereav'd of light. My mother taught me underneath a tree And sitting down before the heat of day, She took me on her lap and kissed me, And pointing to the east began to say, Look on the rising sun: there God...
Seite 185 - You expected bread, and you have got a stone ; break your teeth on it, and don't shriek because the nerves are martyrized : do not doubt that your mental stomach — if you have such a thing — is strong as an ostrich's — the stone will digest.
Seite 56 - He led me through his gardens fair, Where all his golden pleasures grow. With sweet May dews my wings were wet, And Phoebus fired my vocal rage; He caught me in his silken net, And shut me in his golden cage. He loves to sit and hear me sing; Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty.
Seite 99 - We say, let your rogues in novels act like rogues, and your honest men like honest men ; don't let us have any juggling and thimblerigging with virtue and vice, so that, at the end of three volumes, the bewildered reader shall not know which is which...
Seite 541 - AY, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck once red with heroes...
Seite 57 - My smiles and languished air, By love are driven away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: Such end true lovers have. His face is fair as heaven When springing buds unfold; Oh, why to him was't given, Whose heart is wintry cold?
Seite 55 - What? - it will be questioned — when the Sun rises do you not see a round Disk of fire somewhat like a guinea? О no, no, I see an innumerable company of the Heavenly Host crying: Holy Holy Holy is the Lord God Almighty...

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