The Mystery of Godliness

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Page iv - Men are admitted into heaven not because they have curbed and governed their passions, but because they have cultivated their understandings. The treasures of heaven are not negations of passion but realities of intellect from which the passions emanate uncurbed in their eternal glory. The fool shall not enter into heaven, let him be ever so holy. Holiness is not the price of entering into heaven.
Page 123 - Mr. Coutts has surprised us after a fashion that does him much credit. . . . He has grappled with no less a theme than is the mainspring of that magnificent work, The Book of Job. . . . It is beyond all question a noble conception. . . . Mr. Coutts has evidently an absolutely perfect ear for rhythm.
Page 123 - ... this verse always a brave and tender spirit, a soul which has at any rate ' beat its music out ' ; which will not compromise ; which cannot lie ; which is in love with the highest that it sees." LITERATURE.—" It is not every writer who is master, as was quite truly said of Mr. Coutts some years ago, of the rare and difficult art of clothing thought in the true poetic language.
Page 123 - Mr. Money-Coutts is master of the rare and difficult art of clothing thought in the true poetic language." The London Daily Chronicle says : " Mr. Money-Coutts has imagination and feeling in plenty ; he has vigour and sincerity of thought ; and he has often a very noteworthy felicity of phrase. He is a strong poetic craftsman, and his work is always carefully and delicately finished. It is plain on every page that Mr. Coutts is a serious and strenuous craftsman, who places a fine and individual faculty...
Page vii - Jehovah ART thou the God of millions or of tens ? Art thou the God of this world or the next ? Art thou the God of spirit or of text ? Art thou the God of sheep in folded pens, But not of roaming, restless denizens Of mountains and of forests, often vexed By hurricanes and spectres of perplexed, Belated waifs that perish in the fens ? Doth thy Shekinah still above one race Brood, with its fire by night and cloud by day? Doth one fleece catch the dewdrops of thy grace, While unrefreshed is all the...
Page 62 - Why should we fancy on our hills Their sails are sped by earthly wind ? Persia and Egypt, Greece and Rome, And vaster dynasties before, Now faded in Time's monochrome, In what do we surpass their lore? Some things they knew that we know not ; Some things we know, by them unknown ; But the axles of their wheels were hot With the same frenzies as our own.
Page vii - ART thou the God of millions or of tens ? Art thou the God of this world or the next ? Art thou the God of spirit or of text ? Art thou the God of sheep in folded pens, But not of roaming, restless denizens Of mountains and of forests, often vexed By hurricanes and spectres of perplexed, Belated waifs that perish in the fens ? Doth thy Shekinah still above one race Brood, with its fire by night and cloud by day? Doth one fleece catch the dewdrops of thy grace, While unrefreshed is all the common...
Page 62 - Have we not canted of the mills Of God, how very slow they grind? Why should we fancy on our hills Their sails are sped by earthly wind ? Persia and Egypt, Greece and Rome, And vaster dynasties before, Now faded in Time's monochrome, In what do we surpass their lore? Some things they knew...
Page 97 - Or when the daisies fold their smocks, Edged with fine pink, but all else white, To guard their yellow-powdered locks From mothy kisses of the night, Oft will that diligent Spirit nurse The two fair children on her knees, And sing them many an ancient verse Of immemorial melodies.

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