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Page 131 - When the ear heard me, then it blessed me; and when the eye saw me, it gave witness to me; because I delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him. The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me : and I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy.
Page 285 - How blest the righteous when he dies ! When sinks a weary soul to rest ! How mildly beam the closing eyes ! How gently heaves the expiring breast ! 2 So fades a summer cloud away ; So sinks the gale when storms are o'er ; So gently shuts the eye of day ; So dies a wave along the shore.
Page 31 - True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven : It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly ; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die ; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link,1 the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind.
Page 303 - Not there, not there, my child! "Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy! Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ; Dreams cannot picture a world so fair — Sorrow and death may not enter there : Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom, For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb, — It is there, it is there, my child!
Page 184 - The captive to release, To God the lost to bring, To teach the way of life and peace, It is a Christ-like thing.
Page 275 - When I went out to the gate through the city, when I prepared my seat in the street, The young men saw me, and hid themselves : and the aged arose, and stood up. The princes refrained talking, and laid their hand on their mouth.
Page 7 - Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, When our deep plots do pall : and that should teach us. There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.* Hor.
Page 37 - There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty. The liberal soul shall be made fat: and he that watereth shall be watered also himself.
Page 284 - Jesus, lover of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is. high: Hide me, O my Saviour ! hide, Till the storm of life be past ; Safe into the haven guide, O receive my soul at last ! 2 Other refuge have I none, Hangs my helpless soul on thee.