Scenes in our parish, by a country parson's daughter [E. Holmes].

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J. Hatchard and Son, 1832 - 280 pagine
 

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Pagina 227 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more...
Pagina 133 - When I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois, and thy mother Eunice ; and I am persuaded that in thee also.
Pagina 129 - DO ye here, in the presence of GOD, and of this congregation, renew the solemn promise and vow that was made in your name at your Baptism ; ratifying and confirming the same in your own persons, and acknowledging yourselves bound to believe, and to do, all those things, which your Godfathers and Godmothers then undertook for you?
Pagina 157 - O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Pagina 150 - CALL it not vain: — they do not err, Who say, that when the Poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies: Who say, tall cliff, and cavern lone, For the departed Bard make moan; That mountains weep in crystal rill; That flowers in tears of balm distil; Through his loved groves that breezes sigh, And oaks, in deeper groan, reply; And rivers teach their rushing wave To murmur dirges round his grave.
Pagina 210 - MAN, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.
Pagina 236 - O GoD, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come, Our shelter from the stormy blast, And our eternal home.
Pagina 243 - I my trust ; how say ye then to my -soul, that she should flee as a bird unto the hill ? 2 For lo, the ungodly bend their bow, and make ready their arrows within the quiver, that they may privily shoot at them which are true of heart. 3 For the foundations will be...
Pagina 236 - O that I had wings like a dove ! then would I flee away and be at rest.

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