Heroines of the Missionary Enterprise, Or, Sketches of Prominent Female Missionaries

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Ticknor, Reed, and Fields, 1850 - 359页
 

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第65页 - There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty.
第203页 - The hills melted like wax at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the Lord of the whole earth.
第68页 - JESUS shall reign where'er the sun Does his successive journeys run ; His kingdom spread from shore to shore, Till moons shall wax and wane no more.
第24页 - Must I be carried to the skies On flowery beds of ease, While others fought to win the prize, And sailed through bloody seas...
第3页 - Waft, waft, ye winds, his story, And you, ye waters, roll, Till, like a sea of glory, It spreads from pole to pole ; Till, o'er our ransomed nature, The Lamb, for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign.
第234页 - God o'erhead ! /!Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.
第80页 - Welcome to a Land of Rest ! Thus the choir of angels sing, As they bear the soul on high, While with hallelujahs ring All the regions of the sky.
第147页 - O'ER the realms of pagan darkness, Let the eye of pity gaze ; See the kindreds of the people Lost in sin's bewildering maze : Darkness brooding On the face of all the earth. 2 Light of them that sit in darkness ! Rise and shine — thy blessings bring : Light to lighten all the Gentiles ! Rise with healing in thy wing; To thy brightness Let all kings and nations come. 3...
第99页 - Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb, Take this new treasure to thy trust, And give these sacred relics room To slumber in the silent dust. " Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear, Invade thy bounds — no mortal woes Can reach the peaceful sleeper here, While angels watch the soft repose.
第143页 - What is this absorbs me quite ? Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirit, draws my breath ? Tell me, my soul, can this be death ? The world recedes ; it disappears ! Heaven opens on my eyes ! my ears With sounds seraphic ring : Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! O Grave ! where is thy Victory ? O Death ! where is thy Sting?

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