Monthly Packet, Volume 5 (Google eBook)

Front Cover
J. and C. Mozley, 1868
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Page 216 - WHEN I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.
Page 215 - After the sun's remove. I see them walking in an air of glory, "Whose light doth trample on my days My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, Mere glimmering and decays.
Page 5 - Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind, In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be, In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering, In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.
Page 238 - Let people serve thee, and nations bow down to thee : be lord over thy brethren, and let thy mother's sons bow down to thee : cursed be every one that curseth thee, and blessed be he that blesseth thee.
Page 215 - They are all gone into the world of light ! And I alone sit lingering here ; Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts doth clear.
Page 156 - Hide not thy face from me in the time of my trouble : incline thine ear unto me when I call ; O hear me, and that right soon.
Page 424 - With his own right hand, and with his holy arm : hath he gotten himself the victory. 3 The Lord declared his salvation : His righteousness hath he openly shewed in the sight of the heathen. 4 He hath remembered his mercy and truth toward the house of Israel : And all the ends of the world have seen the salvation of our God.
Page 215 - He that hath found some fledg'd bird's nest, may know At first sight, if the bird be flown; But what fair Well, or Grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown. And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul, when man doth sleep: So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted...
Page 215 - And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul, when man doth sleep ; So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep.
Page 115 - Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail, in thee do we trust, nor find thee to fail; thy mercies how tender, how firm to the end, Our Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend. O measureless might, ineffable love, while angels delight to hymn thee above, thy humbler creation, though feeble their lays, with true adoration shall sing to thy praise.

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