Meditations and Contemplations

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W.W. Woodward, 1809 - 371 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 75 - Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me.
Pàgina 222 - Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices, to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive...
Pàgina 70 - How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot ; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be ! Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung, Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.
Pàgina 351 - Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth ; " While all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings, as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
Pàgina 112 - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening
Pàgina 137 - Her wise ladies answered her, yea, she returned answer to herself, have they not sped ? have they not divided the prey ; to every man a damsel or two ; to Sisera a prey of divers colours, a prey of divers colours of needlework, of divers colours of needlework on both sides, meet for the necks of them that take the spoil...
Pàgina 112 - Let us get up early to the vineyards; let us see if the vine flourish, whether the tender grape appear, and the pomegranates bud forth : there will I give thee my loves.
Pàgina 89 - Thou art my father, and to the worm, Thou art my mother and my sister.
Pàgina 337 - There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for one star differeth from another star in glory. So also is the resurrection of the dead.
Pàgina 106 - A dungeon horrible on all sides round, As one great furnace flamed ; yet from those flames No light ; but rather darkness visible, Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell ; hope never comes, That comes to all ; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.

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