Twilight Hours: A Legacy of Verse

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Strahan, 1868 - Christian poetry - 300 pages
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Page 126 - That the strongest wander farthest and most hopelessly are lost? That the mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain, And the anguish of the singer makes the sweetness of the strain ? "I have many things to tell you, but ye cannot bear them now.
Page 308 - The Year of Praise ; being Hymns, with Tunes, for the Sundays and Holidays of the Year. Large type, with music, 3s.
Page 290 - Not so, not so, no load of woe Need bring despairing frown : For while we bear it, we can bear, Past that, we lay it down.
Page 313 - Simple in style, warm with human affection, and written in faultless English, these five stories are studies for the artist, sermons for the thoughtful, and a rare source of delight for all who can find pleasure in really good works of prose fiction. . . They are prose poems, carefully meditated and exquisitely touched in by a teacher ready to sympathize with every joy and sorrow.
Page 80 - The land is ours, the foe is ours, now rest, my men," he said. But while he spoke there came a band of foot-sore, panting men: " The latest prisoner, my lord, we took him in the glen, And left behind dead hostages that we would come again." The victor spoke : " Thou, Persian dog ! hast cost more lives than thine. That was thy will, and thou shouldst die full thrice, if I had mine. Dost know thy fate, thy just reward ? " The Persian bent his head, " I know both sides of victory, and only grieve,"...
Page 152 - I knew not when my life was good, And when there was a light upon my path, But turned my soul perversely to the dark — O Lord, I do repent.
Page 153 - Because Thou hast borne with me all this while, Hast smitten me with love until I weep, Hast called me as a mother calls her child — O Lord...
Page 81 - and while I live, I fight; So, see you to your victory, for 'tis undone this night ; Omar, the worthy, battle fair is but thy god-like right.
Page 69 - Heaven," your mother said softly. And Susie sighed "So far away!" — Tis nearer, Will, now to us all. It is strange how that fellow sleeps ! stranger still that his sleep should haunt me; If I could but command his face, to make sure of the lesser ill : I will crawl to his side and see, for what should there be to daunt me ? What there ? what there...
Page 307 - In George Mac Donald's company the very air seems impregnated with love, purity, and tenderness. We seem to be under an Italian sky ; and the harshness, whether of individual or national temperament, is wonderfully checked. A loving heart reveals to us the heart which is the fountain of love, and sends us away ashamed of our harsh and bitter feelings, and praying to be able to love more both Him who is Love and those who ought ever to be dear to us for His sake.

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