The Christian Poet; Or, Selections in Verse on Sacred Subjects

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William Collins, 1828 - 500 страница
 

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Страница 281 - Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power, By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour; Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize, More hent to raise the wretched than to rise." His house was known to all the vagrant train, He chid their wanderings, hut relieved their pain: The long
Страница 313 - When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green. That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the
Страница 309 - An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night! Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, Implore his counsel and assisting might: They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, They, round the ingle, form a circle wide; The sire turns o'er wi
Страница 211 - moans The vales redoubled to the hills, and they To Heaven. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple tyrant; that from these may grow A hundred fold, who, having learn'd thy way, Early may fly the Babylonian woe. On the
Страница 85 - Death the conqueror of all. THE glories of our mortal state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against Fate; Death lays his icy hand on kings; Sceptre and crown Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill; But their strong nerves at
Страница 109 - run We have short time to stay, as you; We' have as short a spring, As quick a growth to meet decay, As you, or any thing: We die, As your hours do; and dry Away, Like to the summer-rain, Or as the pearls of morning-dew, Ne'er to be found again.
Страница 79 - 1 charge thee, fling away ambition; By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Страница xi - I am a very foolish, fond old man, Fourscore and upward; and, to deal plainly, I fear, I am not in my perfect mind. * Methinks, I should know you, and know this man ; Yet I am doubtful; for 1 am mainly ignorant What place this is ; and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments; nor
Страница 313 - but once heaved,and for ever grew still And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
Страница 301 - The Christian Freeman. HE is the freeman, whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain That hellish foes confederate for his harm, Can wind around him, but he casts it off, With as much ease as Samson his green withes. He looks abroad into the varied field

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