Fragments in prose and verse, collected and arranged by A. Cazenove

Griffith & Farran, 1883 - 48 páginas

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Página 35 - With aching hands and bleeding feet We dig and heap, lay stone on stone ; We bear the burden and the heat Of the long day, and wish 'twere done. Not till the hours of light return, All we have built do we discern.
Página 10 - Pray ; though the gift you ask for May never comfort your fears, May never repay your pleading, Yet pray, and with hopeful tears; An answer, not that you long for, But diviner, will come one day; Your eyes are too dim to see it, Yet strive, and wait, and pray.
Página 30 - Thou art as much His care, as if beside Nor man nor angel lived in heaven or earth : Thus sunbeams pour alike their glorious tide To light up worlds, or wake an insect's mirth : They shine and shine with unexhausted store — Thou art thy Saviour's darling — seek no more.
Página 12 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!
Página 36 - Come to me, O ye children ! And whisper in my ear What the birds and the winds are singing In your sunny atmosphere. For what are all our contrivings, And the wisdom of our books, When compared with your caresses, And the gladness of your looks ? Ye are better than all the ballads That ever were sung or said ; For ye are living poems, And all the rest are dead.
Página 6 - Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day, Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Página 40 - Onward, ever onward, Journeying o'er the road Worn by saints before us, Journeying on to God ; Leaving all behind us, May we hasten on, Backward never looking Till the prize is won.
Página 8 - The night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the whole world dies With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done.
Página 29 - Yes : the sorrow and the suffering, Which on every hand we see, Channels are for tithes and offerings Due by solemn right to Thee ; Right of which we may not rob Thee, Debt we may not choose but pay, Lest that face of love and pity Turn from us another day.

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