Hymns for Mothers and Children

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Walker, Wise, & Company, 1864 - Children's poetry, English - 287 pages
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OCLC Number: 6749221
Related Subjects:(2)
Children's poetry, English.
Mothers -- Poetry.
LCCN:PN 

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Page 184 - Lo ! such the child whose early feet The paths of peace have trod ; Whose secret heart, with influence sweet, Is upward drawn to God...
Page 72 - THERE is a book, who runs may read, Which heavenly truth imparts, And all the lore its scholars need, Pure eyes and Christian hearts. The works of God above, below, Within us and around, Are pages in that book, to show How God Himself is found.
Page 278 - In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead. Day after day we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air ; Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, Behold her grown more fair. Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken The bond which nature gives, Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, May reach her where she lives.
Page 227 - CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armor is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill!
Page 277 - Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.
Page 107 - BLESSINGS on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan ! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes ; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill ; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace ; From my heart I give thee joy, — I was once a barefoot boy ! Prince thou art, — the grown-up man Only is republican.
Page 277 - There is no Death! What seems so is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
Page 184 - SWEET Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My Music shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like...
Page 267 - At break of day, as heavenward The pious monks of Saint Bernard Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, A voice cried through the startled air Excelsior ! A traveller, by the faithful hound, Half-buried in the snow was found, Still grasping in his hand of ice That banner with the strange device Excelsior ! There in the twilight cold and gray, Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, And from the sky, serene and far, A voice fell, like a falling star, Excelsior ! POEMS ON SLAVERY.
Page 197 - And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord." "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,

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