The Sunday Book of PoetryMacmillan, 1865 - 318 páginas A collection of religious poetry for children. Also includes prayers and hymns. |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 6-10 de 40
Página 93
... leave behind , Till the memories dear , that thrill in our ear , Flow past like the whistling wind ! Let them come , sweet thoughts of home , And voices we loved of old ; - What care we , that sail the sea , Bound for a Land of Gold ...
... leave behind , Till the memories dear , that thrill in our ear , Flow past like the whistling wind ! Let them come , sweet thoughts of home , And voices we loved of old ; - What care we , that sail the sea , Bound for a Land of Gold ...
Página 99
... leave , To come to succour us who comfort want ; How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies like flying pursuivant , Against foul fiends to aid us militant . They for us fight , they watch and duly ward , And their ...
... leave , To come to succour us who comfort want ; How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies like flying pursuivant , Against foul fiends to aid us militant . They for us fight , they watch and duly ward , And their ...
Página 110
... this insubstantial pageant faded , Leave not a rack behind . We are such stuff As dreams are made of , and our little life Is rounded with a sleep . William Shakspeare XCI HOLY SCRIPTURE Who has this Book and reads it IIO The Sunday XC ...
... this insubstantial pageant faded , Leave not a rack behind . We are such stuff As dreams are made of , and our little life Is rounded with a sleep . William Shakspeare XCI HOLY SCRIPTURE Who has this Book and reads it IIO The Sunday XC ...
Página 117
... leaves , And little blades of grass . O sure , who scorneth little things , If he were not a thoughtless elf , Far above all that round him springs , Would scorn his little self . Thomas Davis XCIX THE LOST DAY Lost ! lost ! lost ! A ...
... leaves , And little blades of grass . O sure , who scorneth little things , If he were not a thoughtless elf , Far above all that round him springs , Would scorn his little self . Thomas Davis XCIX THE LOST DAY Lost ! lost ! lost ! A ...
Página 118
... Leaving a sting behind . Yet to my hand ' twas given , A golden harp to buy , Such as the white - robed choir attune To deathless minstrelsy . Lost ! lost ! lost ! I feel all search is vain ; That gem of countless cost Can ne'er be mine ...
... Leaving a sting behind . Yet to my hand ' twas given , A golden harp to buy , Such as the white - robed choir attune To deathless minstrelsy . Lost ! lost ! lost ! I feel all search is vain ; That gem of countless cost Can ne'er be mine ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
angels art thou Ben Jonson beneath bird bless blest breast breath bright calm child Christ cloud dark dead dear death deep divine doth dream dust E'en earth eternal evermore eyes faith faithless fear flowers gaze glorious glory God's golden grace grave grief hand happy hast hath hear heard heart Heaven heavenly Henry Hart Milman holy Holy habits Holy Holy hope hour HYMN Jesus John Dryden John Milton Keble king Lamb of God land light live look'd Lord lowly Miserere morn ne'er never night o'er pass'd peace praise prayer rest round sacred saints Saviour shalt shine sing skies sleep smile soft solemn song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star star of Bethlehem strife sweet Sweet day tears thee thine Thou art thought throne tomb unto voice wave weary weep wild William Walsham wind wings word Wykeham's
Pasajes populares
Página 2 - Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try ; Prayer the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high. Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice Returning from his ways, While angels in their songs rejoice, Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air ; His watchword at the gates of death ; He enters Heaven with prayer.
Página 97 - O ! th" exceeding grace Of highest God that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed Angels he sends to and fro, To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe ! How oft do they their silver bowers leave, To come to succour us that succour want ! How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant, Against foul fiends to aid us militant ! They for us fight, they watch and duly ward, And their bright squadrons round about us...
Página 250 - The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled Heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim. The unwearied sun, from day to day, Does his Creator's power display, And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty hand.
Página 218 - I heard the voice of Jesus say, " Behold, I freely give The living water ; thirsty one, Stoop down, and drink, and live !" I came to Jesus, and I drank Of that life-giving stream ; My thirst was quenched, my soul revived, And now I live in Him. 3 I heard the voice of Jesus say, " I am this dark world's light ; Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise, And all thy day be bright.
Página 111 - A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall and die that night; It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures life may perfect be.
Página 237 - What would we give to our beloved ? The hero's heart to be unmoved, The poet's star-tuned harp to sweep, The patriot's voice to teach and rouse, The monarch's crown to light the brows,— He giveth his beloved sleep...
Página 8 - Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head...
Página 142 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year...
Página 143 - Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.
Página 192 - Let us be patient! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise. We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.