History of Worcester in the War of the Rebellion

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The author, 1880 - Massachusetts - 606 pages
 

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Page 177 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor; So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Page 382 - If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of those offenses which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to Him?
Page 357 - SERVANT of God, well done ! Rest from thy loved employ ; The battle fought, the victory won, Enter thy Master's joy. The voice at midnight came, He started up to hear ; A mortal arrow pierced his frame, He fell, — but felt no fear.
Page 359 - Deliver me from all my transgressions : make me not the reproach of the foolish. 9 I was dumb, I opened not my mouth; because thou didst it.
Page 382 - Fondly do we hope— fervently do we pray— that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue, until all the wealth piled by the bond-man's two hundred and fifty years...
Page 363 - And Hezekiah slept with his fathers, and they buried him in the chiefest of the sepulchres of the sons of David: and all Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem did him honour at his death.
Page 351 - And I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings, saying, Alleluia : for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.
Page 96 - THERE is a tear for all that die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave ; But nations swell the funeral cry, And Triumph weeps above the brave. For them is Sorrow's purest sigh O'er Ocean's heaving bosom sent : In vain their bones unburied lie, All earth becomes their monument ! A tomb is theirs on every page, An epitaph on every tongue : The present hours...
Page 105 - Let us search and try our ways, and turn again to the Lord. Let us lift up our heart with our hands unto God in the heavens.
Page 512 - Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame; nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.

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