Kelly's Universal Third Reader

Front Cover
Henry Athanasius Brann
T. Kelly, 1888 - Readers - 268 pages
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Page 256 - Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home...
Page 152 - I do not ask to see The distant scene, — one step enough for me. I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou Shouldst lead me on. I loved to choose and see my path; but now Lead Thou me on! I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will: remember not past years. So long Thy power hath...
Page 151 - Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead Thou me on! Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene, — one step enough for me.
Page 111 - It was my guide, my light, my all, It bade my dark forebodings cease; And through the storm and danger's thrall, It led me to the port of peace. Now safely moored, my perils o'er, I'll sing, first in night's diadem, For ever and for evermore, The Star, the Star of Bethlehem.
Page 110 - When, marshalled on the nightly plain, The glittering host bestud the sky, One Star alone, of all the train, Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. Hark ! hark ! to God the chorus breaks, From every host, from every gem ; But one alone the Saviour speaks, It is the star of Bethlehem.
Page 43 - THE tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls ; Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveller hastens toward the town, And the tide rises, the tide falls. Darkness settles on roofs and walls, But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls ; The little waves, with their soft, white hands, Efface the footprints in the sands, And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Page 99 - The tear, down Childhood's cheek that flows, Is like the dew-drop on the rose ; When next the summer breeze comes by, And waves the bush, the flower is dry.
Page 152 - I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou shouldst lead me on; I loved to choose and see my path; but now lead thou me on. I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, pride ruled my will: remember not past years. So long thy power hath blest me, sure it still will lead me on, o'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till the night is gone, and with the morn those angel faces smile, which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.
Page 234 - BENEATH the hill you may see the mill Of wasting wood and crumbling stone; The wheel is dripping and clattering still, But Jerry, the miller, is dead and gone. Year after year, early and late, Alike in summer and winter weather, He pecked the stones and calked the gate, And mill and miller grew old together. "Little Jerry!" — 'twas all the same, — They loved him well who called him so; And whether he'd ever another name, Nobody ever seemed to know. 'Twas, "Little Jerry, come grind my rye"; And...
Page 111 - Once on the raging seas I rode : The storm was loud, the night was dark ; • • The ocean yawned, and rudely blowed The wind that tossed my foundering bark.

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