Compitum, or The meeting of the ways at the Catholic church, Volume 7 (Google eBook)

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C. Dolman, 1854
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Page 134 - So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt...
Page 281 - Who was her father? Who was her mother ? Had she a sister? Had she a brother ? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other ? Alas ! for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun ! Oh, it was pitiful ! Near a whole city full. Home she had none.
Page 577 - Oh! but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet. With the sky above my head. And the grass beneath my feet ; For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal!
Page 175 - And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever : it may be a sound A tone of music summer's eve or spring A flower the wind the ocean which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound ; XXIV.
Page 280 - One more Unfortunate, Weary of breath, Rashly importunate Gone to her death! Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care; Fashion'd so slenderly, Young and so fair! Look at her garments Clinging like cerements; Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing: Take her up instantly, Loving, not loathing. Touch her not scornfully; Think of her mournfully. Gently and humanly; Not of the stains of her, All that remains of her Now is pure womanly.
Page 128 - Wisdom's self Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude ; Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings, That in the various bustle of resort Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd. He that has light within his own clear breast, May sit i...
Page 380 - And next in order sad Old Age we found, His beard all hoar, his eyes hollow and blind, With drooping cheer still poring on the ground, As on the place where nature him...
Page 575 - Oh, the grave ! the grave ! It buries every error covers every defect extinguishes every resentment. From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections.
Page 135 - Heaven is saintly chastity, that, when a soul is found sincerely so, a thousand. liveried angels lackey her, driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, and, in clear dream and solemn vision, tell her of things that no gross ear can hear; till oft converse with heavenly habitants begin to cast a beam on the outward shape, the unpolluted temple of the mind, and turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, till all be made immortal.
Page 364 - Time made thee what thou wast, king of the woods ; And time hath made thee what thou art a cave For owls to roost in.

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