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Page 114 - One sweetly solemn thought Comes to me o'er and o'er ; I am nearer home to-day Than I ever have been before ; Nearer my Father's house, Where the many mansions be ; Nearer the great white throne, Nearer the crystal sea ; Nearer the bound of life, Where we lay our burdens down ; Nearer leaving the cross, Nearer gaining the crown.
Page 288 - They afterwards had quarrels and contentions, and separated into two distinct nations, one of which he denominated Nephites, and the other Lamanites. Cruel and bloody wars ensued, in which great multitudes were slain. They buried their dead in large heaps, which caused the mounds so common in this country. Their arts, sciences and civilization were brought into view in order to account for all the curious antiquities found in various parts of North and South America.
Page 67 - ... malign Is such Borgia wine, Or at best but a Devil's Elixir. While pure as a spring Is the wine I sing, And to praise it, one needs but name it ; For Catawba wine Has need of no sign, No tavern-bush to proclaim it. And this Song of the Vine, This greeting of mine, The winds and the birds shall deliver To the Queen of the West, In her garlands dressed, On the banks of the Beautiful River.
Page 490 - ... and, for the first time, he saw himself gaining ground. He had watched the motions of his pursuer too closely, however, to pay proper attention to the nature of the ground before him, and he suddenly found himself in front of a large tree which had been blown down, and upon which brush and other impediments lay to the height of eight or nine feet. The Indian (who heretofore had not uttered the slightest sound) now gave a short, quick yell, as if secure of his victim.
Page 114 - Timid and still, the elder had Even then a smile too sweetly sad; The crown of pain that all must wear Too early pressed her midnight hair. Yet ere the summer eve grew long, Her modest lips were sweet with song; A memory haunted all her words Of clover-fields and singing birds. Her dark, dilating eyes expressed The broad horizons of the west; Her speech dropped prairie flowers; the gold Of harvest wheat about her rolled.
Page 251 - What did you kill my people on Yellow Creek for ? The white people killed my kin, at Conestoga, a great while ago ; and I thought nothing of that. But you killed my kin again, on Yellow Creek, and took my Cousin prisoner. Then I thought I must kill too ; and I have been three times to war since ; but the Indians are not angry : only myself.
Page 127 - The reapers rest at noon. And oft the beggar masked with tan, In rusty garments gray with dust, Here sits and dips his little can, And breaks his scanty crust; And, lulled beside thy whispering stream, Oft drops to slumber unawares, And sees the angel of his dream Upon celestial stairs. Dear dweller by the dusty way, Thou saint within a mossy shrine, The tribute of a heart to-day Weary and worn is thine ! 3* A MAYING.
Page 336 - Time is winging us away, To our eternal home ; Life is but a winter's day — A journey to the tomb : But the Christian shall enjoy, Health and beauty, soon above, Far beyond the world's alloy, Secure in Jesus
Page 342 - There was a man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job; and that man was perfect and upright, and one that feared God, and eschewed evil.
Page 248 - Maclay— who refused to take them, alledging that we had been his guests, and did not come to rob him — that the shooting had been only a trial of skill, and the bet merely nominal. Logan drew himself up with great dignity, and said, ' Me bet to make you shoot your best— me gentleman, and me take your dollar if me beat.