The London by Moonlight Mission: Being an Account of Midnight Cruises on the Streets of London During the Last Thirteen Years

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Robson and Avery, 1860 - 324 Seiten
 

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Seite 80 - And if I send them away fasting to their own houses, they will faint by the way : for divers of them came from far.
Seite 80 - And he commanded the people to sit down on the ground: and he took the seven loaves, and gave thanks, and brake, and gave to his disciples to set before them: and they did set them before the people.
Seite 177 - Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howl for your miseries that shall come upon you. Your riches are corrupted, and your garments are motheaten. Your gold and silver is cankered; and the rust of them shall be a witness against you, and shall eat your flesh as it were fire.
Seite 170 - Work - work - work! My labour never flags; And what are its wages? A bed of straw, A crust of bread - and rags. That shatter'd roof, - and this naked floor A table - a broken chair And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there!
Seite 295 - Trust no future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead past bury its dead! Act, — act in the living present! Heart within, and GOD o'erhead!
Seite 72 - I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons which need no repentance.
Seite 72 - What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it ? And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing.
Seite 256 - God is not a man, that he should lie;. neither the son of man, that he should repent: hath he said, and shall he not do it ? or hath he spoken, and shall he not make it good?
Seite 295 - Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife!

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