A Manual of Composition and Rhetoric: A Text-book for Schools and Colleges

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Eldredge & Brother, 1891 - English language - 384 pages
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Page 183 - Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God's elect? It is God that justifieth. Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us.
Page 200 - Hast thou given the horse strength? Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? The glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: He goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted ; Neither turneth he back from the sword.
Page 185 - Have we not power to lead about a sister, a wife, as well as other apostles, and as the brethren of the Lord, and Cephas?
Page 201 - In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face ; the hair of my flesh stood up.
Page 258 - I never more shall see my own, my native land: Take a message, and a token, to some distant friends of mine, For I was born at Bingen, — at Bingen on the Rhine.
Page 200 - The glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: He goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted ; Neither turneth he back from the sword. The quiver rattleth against him, The glittering spear and the shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage: Neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha! And he smelleth the battle afar off, The thunder of the captains, and the...
Page 43 - But Jesus turning unto them said, Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children. For, behold, the days are coming, in the which they shall say, Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bare, and the paps which never gave suck. Then shall they begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us; and to the hills, Cover us.
Page 255 - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard. Then wore his monarch's signet ring, Then pressed that monarch's throne — a King ; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird.
Page 258 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread — Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! In poverty, hunger and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this "Song of the Shirt.
Page 46 - Who goeth a warfare any time at his own charges? who planteth a vineyard, and eateth not of the fruit thereof? or who feedeth a flock, and eateth not of the milk of the flock?

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