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Pàgina 534 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share — I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Pàgina 350 - Therefore doth my Father love me, because I lay down my life, that I might take it again. No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again. This commandment have I received of my Father.
Pàgina 172 - 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...
Pàgina 171 - AND is there care in heaven ? and is there love In heavenly spirits to these creatures base, That may compassion of their evils move ? There is...
Pàgina 191 - The drying up a single tear has more Of honest fame than shedding seas of gore.
Pàgina 350 - 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.
Pàgina 360 - As every paltry magazine can show it 's. LV. In twice five years the " greatest living poet," Like to the champion in the fisty ring, Is called on to support his claim, or show it, Although 'tis an imaginary thing. Even I — albeit I'm sure I did not know it, Nor sought of foolscap subjects to be king, — Was reckoned, a considerable time, i LVI.
Pàgina 534 - Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill, Around my fire an evening group to draw, And tell of all I felt and all I saw; And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, Pants to the place from whence at first she flew — I still had hopes — my long vexations past, Here to return, and die at home at last.
Pàgina 75 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.