Meditations and Contemplations

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W.W. Woodward, 1809 - 371 頁
 

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第 75 頁 - Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me.
第 222 頁 - Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices, to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive...
第 70 頁 - How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot ; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be ! Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung, Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.
第 351 頁 - Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth ; " While all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings, as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
第 112 頁 - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening
第 137 頁 - Her wise ladies answered her, yea, she returned answer to herself, have they not sped ? have they not divided the prey ; to every man a damsel or two ; to Sisera a prey of divers colours, a prey of divers colours of needlework, of divers colours of needlework on both sides, meet for the necks of them that take the spoil...
第 112 頁 - Let us get up early to the vineyards; let us see if the vine flourish, whether the tender grape appear, and the pomegranates bud forth : there will I give thee my loves.
第 89 頁 - Thou art my father, and to the worm, Thou art my mother and my sister.
第 337 頁 - There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for one star differeth from another star in glory. So also is the resurrection of the dead.
第 106 頁 - A dungeon horrible on all sides round, As one great furnace flamed ; yet from those flames No light ; but rather darkness visible, Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell ; hope never comes, That comes to all ; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.

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