English Reader (Google eBook)

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Manahan, Hoag & Company, 1827
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Contents

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Page 216 - Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, , Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Page 185 - With thee conversing I forget all time ; All seasons and their change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds...
Page 221 - THE Lord my pasture shall prepare, ĽAnd feed me with a shepherd's care ; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye ; My noonday walks he shall attend, And all my midnight hours defend.
Page 175 - The Epitaph Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A Youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown; Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Page 23 - A soft answer turneth away wrath : but grievous words stir up anger.
Page 222 - Soon as the evening shades prevail, The Moon takes up the wondrous tale; And nightly, to the listening Earth, Repeats the story of her birth : Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets, in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
Page 209 - And darkness and doubt are now flying away ; No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn. So breaks on the traveller, faint, and astray, The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn. See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in triumph descending, And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom ! On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending, And Beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.
Page 234 - If I am right, Thy grace impart, Still in the right to stay ; If I am wrong, oh, teach my heart To find that better way.
Page 227 - Hope humbly then ; with trembling pinions soar ; Wait the great teacher death, and God adore. What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast : Man never is, but always to be blest.
Page 240 - Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent ; Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect in a hair as heart ; As full, as perfect in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns. To Him no high, no low, no great, no small ; He fills, He bounds, connects and equals all.

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