The English Reader: Or, Pieces in Prose and Poetry, Selected from the Best Writers, Designed to Assist Young Persons to Read with Propriety and Effect ... (Google eBook)

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Samuel Mills, 1817 - Readers - 288 pages
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Page 246 - Solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ; Better dwell in the midst of alarms Than reign in this horrible place.
Page 248 - WHEN all thy mercies, O my God, My rising soul surveys ; Transported with the view, I'm lost In wonder, love, and praise...
Page 187 - Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
Page 117 - Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all them that stood by him; and he cried, Cause every man to go out from me.
Page 223 - I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polish'd manners and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. An inadvertent step may crush the snail That crawls at evening in the public path ; But he that has humanity, forewarn'd, Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.
Page 251 - With friendship, peace, and contemplation join'd, How many, rack'd with honest passions, droop In deep retir'd distress. How many stand Around the death-bed of their dearest friends, And point the parting anguish. Thought fond man Of these, and all the thousand nameless ills, That one incessant struggle render life, One scene of toil, of suffering, and of fate...
Page 84 - Were the soul separate from the body, and with one glance of thought should start beyond the bounds of the creation, should it for millions of years continue its progress through infinite space with the same activity, it would still find itself within the embrace of its Creator, and encompassed round with the immensity of the Godhead. Whilst we are in the body he is not less present with us because he is concealed from us. " O that I knew where I might find him!
Page 96 - The soul, considered with its Creator, is like one of those mathematical lines that may draw nearer to another for all eternity without a possibility of touching it*: and can there be a thought so transporting, as to consider ourselves in these perpetual approaches to him, who is not only the standard of perfection but of happiness ! L.
Page ii - Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain upon you, nor fields of offerings; for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, as though he had not been anointed with oil.
Page 236 - Soft peace she brings wherever she arrives; She builds our quiet as she forms our lives; Lays the rough paths of peevish nature even, And opens in each heart a little heaven.

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