Letters to My Pupils: With Narrative and Biographical Sketches

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R. Carter, 1852 - 341 pages
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Page 199 - My doctrine shall drop as the rain, my speech shall distil as the dew, as the small rain upon the tender herb, and as the showers upon the grass : Because I will publish the name of the Lord: ascribe ye greatness unto our God.
Page 21 - For my burial I desire it may be in St. Michael's Church near St. Albans : there was my mother buried, and it is the parish church of my mansion-house of Gorhambury, and it is the only Christian church within the walls of Old Verulam.
Page 123 - Pr'ythee, lead me in: There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny ; 'tis the king's : my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own.
Page 295 - A rise in blessing ! with the patriarch's joy, Thy call I follow to the land unknown ; I trust in thee, and know in whom I trust ; Or life, or death, is equal ; neither weighs : All weight in this — O let me live to thee ! Tho' nature's terrors, thus, may be represt ; Still frowns grim Death ; guilt points the tyrant's spear.
Page 275 - O Caledonia ! stern and wild, meet nurse for a poetic child, • land of brown heath and shaggy wood, land of the mountain and the flood, land of my sires!
Page 218 - FORASMUCH as it hath pleased Almighty God, in his wise Providence, to take out of this world the Soul of our deceased Brother, we therefore commit his Body to the ground ; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust : looking for the general resurrection in the last Day, and the Life of the World to come...
Page 123 - Cromwell, Cromwell! Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal I serv'd my king,83 he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Page 260 - SISTERS! there's music here; From countless harps it flows, . Throughout this bright celestial sphere Nor pause nor discord knows. The seal is melted from my ear By love divine, And what through life I. pined to hear, Is mine ! Is mine ! The warbling of an ever-tuneful choir, And the full deep response of David's sacred lyre.
Page 256 - Beloved, follow not that which is evil, but that which is good. He that doeth good is of God : but he that doeth evil hath not seen God.
Page 234 - THERE was an open grave, and many an eye Looked down upon it. Slow the sable hearse Moved on, as if reluctantly it bare The young, unwearied form to that cold couch, Which age and sorrow render sweet to man.

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