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Page 84 - Caesar had his Brutus — Charles the First his Cromwell — and George the Third — [" Treason " cried the Speaker ; " treason ! treason ! " echoed from every part of the house.
Page 217 - About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for salvation; and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.
Page 246 - Was Thy tempestuous road, Nor indignation burnt before Thee on Thy way; But Thee, a soft and naked child, Thy mother undefiled, In the rude manger laid to rest From off her virgin breast. The heavens were not commanded to prepare A gorgeous canopy of golden air, Nor stoop'd their lamps th...
Page 247 - It matters little at what hour of the day The righteous fall asleep — death cannot come To him untimely who is fit to die — The less of this cold world, the more of heaven ; The briefer life, the earlier immortality.
Page 17 - I do not know what I may appear to the world ; but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the seashore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
Page 203 - Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries ! Happiest they of human race, To whom God has granted grace To read, to fear, to hope, to pray, To lift the latch, and force the way ; And better had they ne'er been born, Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.
Page 206 - Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour; And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
Page 214 - With which it clings seems slowly coming down; Even as a wretched soul hour after hour, Clings to the mass of life; yet clinging, leans; And leaning, makes more dark the dread abyss In which it fears to fall : beneath this crag Huge as despair, as if in weariness, The melancholy mountain yawns . . , below, You hear but see not an impetuous torrent Raging among the caverns, and a bridge Crosses the chasm; and high above there grow, With intersecting trunks, from crag to crag, Cedars, and yews, and...
Page 17 - I never in my life knew a man who had so tender a heart for his particular friends, or a more general friendship for mankind.