Hadji in Syria: Or, Three Years in Jerusalem

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J. Challen & sons, 1858 - Christian pilgrims and pilgrimages - 295 pages
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Page 274 - if the fall of them be the riches of the world, and the diminishing of them the riches of the gentiles, how much more their fullness ? And if the casting away of them be the reconciling of the world, what shall the receiving of them be
Page 64 - afar off" in most entreating attitude, as of old, when "Jesus entered into a certain village there met him ten men that were lepers, which stood afar off, and lifted up their voices and said, Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.
Page 38 - Thine eyes shall see Jerusalem a quiet habitation, a tabernacle that shall not be taken down; not one of the stakes thereof shall ever be removed, neither shall any of the cords thereof be broken.
Page 275 - if the casting away of them be the reconciling of the world, what shall the receiving of them be but life from the dead?
Page 119 - The Niobe of nations! there she stands, Childless and crownless in her voiceless woe, An empty urn within her withered hands, Whose holy dust was scattered long ago.
Page 131 - a wife for Isaac, made his camels to kneel down without the city by a well of water at the time of the evening, even the time that women go out to draw water. And
Page 26 - It is a goodly sight to see What Heaven hath done for this delicious land ! What fruits of fragrance blush on every tree! What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand! But man would mar them with an impious hand.
Page 283 - I am in blood . Stept in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
Page 54 - and Mount Zion, on which the city of David was built. " And throned on her hill sits Jerusalem yet, But with dust on her forehead and chains on her feet; For the crown of her pride to the mocker hath gone, And the holy Shechinah is dark where it shone.
Page 143 - people shone, Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire: Thyself none living see and not expire! Oh ! in the lightning let thy glance appear! Sweep from his shivered hand the oppressor's spear: How long by tyrants shall thy land be trod ! How long thy temple worshipless, Oh, God!

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