Mysteries of City Life; Or, Stray Leaves from the World's Book: Being a Series of Tales, Sketches, Incidents, and Scenes, Founded Upon the Notes of a Home Missionary (Google eBook)

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J.W. Moore, 1849 - 408 pages
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Page 64 - Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear ; Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all. Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks : Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.
Page 25 - Messiah's name ! 4 Waft, waft, ye winds, his story, And you, ye waters, roll, Till, like a sea of glory, It spreads from pole to pole : Till o'er our ransom'd nature The Lamb for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign.
Page 25 - What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle, Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile : In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown ; The heathen, in his blindness, Bows down to wood and stone...
Page 382 - For the oppression of the poor, for the sighing of the needy, now will I arise, saith the LORD; I will set him in safety from him that puffeth at him.
Page 264 - tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, ^ That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death.
Page 25 - FROM Greenland's icy mountains, From India's coral strand; Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand; From many an ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain.
Page 70 - And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand. When thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength; a fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth.
Page 251 - Offer unto God thanksgiving; and pay thy vows unto the most High: And call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.
Page 107 - Of their own limbs : how many drink the cup Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread Of misery ! Sore pierc'd by wintry winds, How many shrink into the sordid hut Of cheerless poverty...
Page 211 - Oh grief, beyond all other griefs, when fate First leaves the young heart lone and desolate In the wide world, without that only tie For which it loved to live or feared to die...

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