The English Church in the Eighteenth Century, Volume 2

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Page 354 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and. beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash...
Page 258 - Before all temples the upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for thou know'st; thou from the first Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread, Dove-like, sat'st brooding on the vast abyss, And mad'st it pregnant: what in me is dark Illumine; what is low, raise and support; That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men.
Page 258 - What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This, teach me more than hell to shun, That, more than Heaven pursue. What blessings Thy free bounty gives, Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives, T
Page 274 - I'LL praise my Maker with my breath ; And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall employ my nobler powers : My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last, Or immortality endures.
Page 282 - THESE, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of THEE. Forth in the pleasing Spring THY beauty walks, THY tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; And every sense, and every heart is joy. Then comes THY glory in the Summer months...
Page 345 - Thou too, hoar Mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks, Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast— Thou too again, stupendous Mountain! thou That as I raise my head, awhile bowed low In adoration, upward from thy base Slow travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears...
Page 227 - After the Sun's remove. I see them walking in an air of glory, Whose light doth trample on my days; My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, Mere glimmerings and decays.
Page 322 - SOMETIMES a light surprises ^ The Christian while he sings : It is the Lord who rises With healing in His wings. When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again A season of clear shining, To cheer it, after rain.
Page 286 - How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man! How passing wonder He who made him such, Who centred in our make such strange extremes!

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