Rambles and Researches Among Worcestershire Churches: With Historical Notes Relating to the Several Parishes, Volume 1

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Simpkin, Marshall, and Company, 1884 - Church architecture
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Page 94 - As you are now so once was I; As I am now, so you must be Prepare for death and follow me.
Page 212 - THY way, not mine, O Lord, However dark it be ! Lead me by Thine own hand, Choose out the path for me.
Page 224 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty ; Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair ; Thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sit'st above these Heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Page 1 - God's Acre! Yes, that blessed name imparts Comfort to those who in the grave have sown The seed that they had garnered in their hearts , Their bread of life, alas! no more their own. Into its furrows shall we all be cast, In the sure faith that we shall rise again At the great harvest, when the archangel's blast Shall winnow , like a fan , the chaff and grain...
Page 10 - The lines have fallen to us in pleasant places, And we have a goodly heritage.
Page 182 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Page 103 - When Sorrow weeps o'er Virtue's sacred dust, Our tears become us, and our Grief is just: Such were the tears she shed, who grateful pays This last sad tribute of her love and praise.
Page 246 - She is not dead, — the child of our affection, But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule.
Page 39 - My whistle, too, has lost its tone, Its shrill and thrilling sounds are gone. My valves are now thrown open wide, My flanges all refuse to guide. My clacks, also, though once so strong, Refuse to aid the busy throng. No more I feel each urging breath, My steam is now condensed in death. Life's railway's o'er, each station past, In death I'm stopped, and rest at last. Farewell, dear Friends, and cease to weep, In Christ I'm safe; in Him I sleep.
Page 14 - I to the Church the living call, and to the grave do summon all, AR 1728.

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