Charles Kingsley: His Letters and Memoires of His Life, Volumen2

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H.S. King & Company, 1877
 

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Página 68 - And thro' the mountain-walls A rolling organ-harmony Swells up, and shakes and falls. Then move the trees, the copses nod, Wings flutter, voices hover clear : ' O just and faithful knight of God ! Ride on ! the prize is near.
Página 288 - With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light: There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced choir below, In service high, and anthems clear, As may with sweetness through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.
Página 474 - FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race ; Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace ; And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, Which is no more than what is false and vain, And merely mortal dross ; So little is our loss, So little is thy gain.
Página 40 - Then cometh the end, when he shall have delivered up the kingdom to GOD, even the Father; when he shall have put down all rule, and all authority, and power. For he must reign, till he hath put all enemies under his feet. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.
Página 33 - O Lord, in thee have I trusted : let me never be confounded.
Página 467 - Plenteous grace with thee is found, Grace to cover all my sin : Let the healing streams abound : Make and keep me pure within. Thou of life the fountain art. Freely let me take of thee : Spring thou up within my heart, Rise to all eternity.
Página 224 - Conquer and come to thy goal, Leaving the rest in the wild. We were weary, and we Fearful, and we in our march Fain to drop down and to die. Still thou turnedst, and still Beckonedst the trembler, and still Gavest the weary thy hand.
Página 458 - Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts; shut not thy merciful ears to our prayer; but spare us, Lord most holy, O God most mighty, O holy and merciful Saviour, thou most worthy Judge eternal, suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from thee.
Página 17 - What we can we will be, Honest Englishmen. Do the work that's nearest, Though it's dull at whiles; Helping, when we meet them, Lame dogs over stiles ; See in every hedgerow Marks of angels...
Página 150 - Greatness and goodness are not means but ends ! Hath he not always treasures, always friends, The good great man ? Three treasures,- love and light, And calm thoughts regular as infant's breath : And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.

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