The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Volume 46

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Page 348 - And labours hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labour or of skill I would be busy too: For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play Let my first years be past, That I may give for every day Some good account at last.
Page 368 - Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber ; Holy angels guard thy bed ; Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head. Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide ; All without thy care, or payment, All thy wants are well supplied.
Page 367 - A SUMMER EVENING. How fine has the day been! how bright was the sun, How lovely and joyful the course that he run ! Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun, And there followed some droppings of rain ; But now the fair traveller's come to the west, His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best ; He paints the...
Page 368 - Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide; All without thy care or payment: All thy wants are well supplied. How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of God could be, When from heaven He descended And became a child like thee! Soft and easy is thy cradle: Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable And His softest bed was hay.
Page 328 - How great his power is, none can tell, Nor think how large his grace ; Not men below, nor saints that dwell On high before his face.
Page 362 - If we had been ducks we might dabble in mud ; Or dogs, we might play till it ended in blood ; So foul and so fierce are their natures : But Thomas and William, and such pretty names, Should be cleanly and harmless as doves or as lambs, Those lovely sweet innocent creatures.
Page 163 - Lord, what shall earth and ashes do? We would adore our Maker too! From sin and dust, to thee we cry, The Great, the Holy, and the High.
Page 338 - I lie ; Upward I dare not look; Pardon my sins before I die, And blot them from thy book. Remember all the dying pains That my Redeemer felt, And let his blood wash out my stains, And answer for my guilt.
Page 359 - To God the Father, God the Son, And God the Spirit, three in one, Be honor, praise, and glory given, By all on earth, and all in heaven.
Page 100 - Here's love and grief beyond degree, The Lord of glory dies for men ! But lo ! what sudden joys we see ! Jesus the dead revives again ! 4 The rising God forsakes the tomb ! Up to his Father's court he flies ; Cherubic legions guard him home, And shout him welcome to the skies.

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