Autres éditions - Tout afficher
Anna Dickinson beautiful better blessed Bologna called child Christ Christian Church of Rome convent crime dead death divine door duty earth Edwin Booth Emperor eyes faith Fanny Kemble father Florence Galileo Gilmanton give glory habit hand head heard heart heaven holy Holy Lance hour human hymns Interlaken Italy Jesus Jews King lady Lauterbrunnen learned living look Lord marble midst minister Monaco monastery monks morning mother mountains never night painting palace pastor Pope prayer preacher preaching priest prison protoplasm pulpit religion religious Roman Sabbath saint San Miniato Saviour Savonarola scene seat sermon side song soul speak spirit stone stood story sweet theatres things thought thousand tion Tyrol unto voice walk walls woman women words worship York Observer young
Page 8 - He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes.
Page 81 - All jubilant with song, And bright with many an angel, And all the martyr throng: The Prince is ever in them, The daylight is serene, The pastures of the blessed Are decked in glorious sheen. 3 There is the throne of David, And there, from care released, The song of them that triumph, The shout of them that feast; And they, who with their Leader Have conquered in the fight, For ever and for ever Are clad in robes of white.
Page 80 - FOR thee, O dear, dear country, Mine eyes their vigils keep ; For very love, beholding Thy happy name, they weep. The mention of thy glory Is unction to the breast, And medicine in sickness, And love, and life, and rest.
Page 299 - How doth the city sit solitary, that was full of people ! how is she become as a widow ! she that was great among the nations, and princess among the provinces, how is she become tributary...
Page 147 - How sweet the name of Jesus sounds In a believer's ear ! It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds, And drives away his fear.
Page 321 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? GOD! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, GOD!
Page 79 - JUST as I am, without one plea, But that thy blood was shed for me, And that thou bid'st me come to thee, O Lamb of God, I come!
Page 350 - There is the throne of David ; And there, from care released, The shout of them that triumph, The song of them that feast. And they, who, with their Leader, Have conquered in the fight, For ever and for ever Are clad in robes of white.