A history of a fragment of the clan Linn and a genealogy of the Linn and related families

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Report print, 1906 - History - 204 pages
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Page 75 - When I remember all The friends, so linked together, I've seen around me fall, Like leaves in wintry weather, I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet hall deserted — Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed...
Page 65 - Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him. For he knoweth our frame ; He remembereth that we are dust.
Page 63 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal ; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Page 68 - We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. \Ve should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
Page 21 - Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A Man's a Man for a
Page 65 - Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; Who healeth all thy diseases; Who redeemeth thy life from destruction ; Who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies ; Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things ; So that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's.
Page 83 - So the multitude goes, like the flower or the weed That withers away to let others succeed ; So the multitude comes, even those we behold, To repeat every tale that has often been told. For we are the same our fathers have been : We see the same sights our fathers have seen: We drink the same stream, and view the same sun, And run the same course our fathers have run.
Page 50 - Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learned to stray; Along the cool, sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Page 33 - A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth, Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth : The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, Views not a realm so bountiful and fair, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air. In every clime, the...
Page 181 - The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On fame's eternal camping ground Their silent tents are spread, And glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead.

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