George Herbert and his times: With 32 illus

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Putnam, 1906 - 327 pages
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1906/ 327p/ 121

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Page 274 - TEACH me, my God and King, In all things Thee to see, And what I do in anything, To do it as for Thee...
Page 275 - Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round! Parents first season us; then schoolmasters Deliver us to laws : they send us bound To rules of reason, holy messengers, Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin, Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes...
Page 276 - Let us (said he) pour on him all we can : Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, Contract into a span. So strength first made a way ; Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honour, pleasure : When almost all was out, God made a stay, Perceiving that alone, of all his treasure, Rest in the bottom lay. For if I should...
Page 249 - The Sundays of man's life, Threaded together on time's string, Make bracelets to adorn the wife Of the eternal glorious King. On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope ; Blessings are plentiful and rife — More plentiful than hope.
Page 2 - THOU, whose sweet youth and early hopes enhance Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure, Hearken unto a Verser, who may chance Rhyme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure : A verse may find him, who a Sermon flies, And turn delight into a Sacrifice.
Page 284 - MY God, I heard this day, That none doth build a stately habitation But he that means to dwell therein. What house more stately hath there been, Or can be, than is Man ? to whose creation All things are in decay.
Page 285 - Full of proportions, one limb to another, And all to all the world besides. Each part may call the farthest brother, For head with foot hath private amity, And both with moons and tides. Nothing hath got so far, But man hath caught and kept it as his prey: His eyes dismount the highest star; He is in little all the sphere; Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they Find their acquaintance there.
Page 266 - By all means use sometimes to be alone. Salute thyself: see what thy soul doth wear. Dare to look in thy chest ; for 'tis thine own : And tumble up and down what thou find'st there.
Page 314 - THE FLOWER. How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are Thy returns ! e'en as the flowers in spring , To which, besides their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.
Page 306 - Religion stands on tiptoe in our land, Ready to pass to the American strand. When height of malice, and prodigious lusts, Impudent sinning, witchcrafts, and distrusts, (The marks of future bane,) shall fill our cup Unto the brim, and make our measure up ; THE CHURCH MILITANT.

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