Margaret Stourton; or, A year of governess life

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Page 263 - Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight.
Page 231 - Serene will be our days and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security. And they a blissful course may hold Even now, who, not unwisely bold, Live in the spirit of this creed ; Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need.
Page 151 - O'ER wayward childhood would'st thou hold firm rule, And sun thee in the light of happy faces ; Love, Hope, and Patience, these must be thy graces, And in thine own heart let them first keep school.
Page 1 - Give to the winds thy fears ; Hope, and be undismayed; God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears, God shall lift up thy head. Through waves and clouds and storms He gently clears thy way; Wait thou His time, so shall this night Soon end in joyous day.
Page 241 - How could I turn aside, to look At snowdrops laid upon my book ? Now Time has fled — the world is strange, Something there is of pain and change ; My books lie closed upon the shelf ; I miss the old heart in myself. I miss the sunbeams in my room — It was not always wrapped in gloom : I miss my dreams — they fade so fast, Or flit into some trivial past.
Page 73 - Soul, remember in thy pains, God o'er all for ever reigns. God liveth ever ! Wherefore, soul, despair thou never ! What though thou tread with bleeding feet A thorny path of grief and gloom, Thy God will choose the way most meet To lead thee heavenwards, lead thee home. For this life's long night of sadness He will give thee peace and gladness. Soul, forget not in thy pains, God o'er all for ever reigns.
Page 116 - Dispersed along the world's wide way, When friends are far, and fond ones rove, How powerful she, to wake the thought, And start the tear, for those we love, Who watch with us, at night's pale noon, And gaze upon that silent moon.
Page 224 - WE speak and we read of the hero's deeds, And envy perchance his fame ; We would tread, like him, some path that leads To gaining a deathless name; And we sigh as our time is vainly spent, " Oh, 't was not for this that I was meant...
Page 276 - Who is Silvia ? what is she, That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she ; The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be.

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