Memoirs of the Life and Character of the Late Rev. Cornelius Winter

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M. Gye, 1808 - Всего страниц: 478

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Стр. 328 - Wherefore, if meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no ^ flesh while the world standeth, * lest I make my brother to offend.
Стр. 281 - The reverend champion stood. At his control Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
Стр. 281 - Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And...
Стр. 294 - And the Lord said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil?
Стр. 375 - They take the timbrel and harp, And rejoice at the sound of the organ. They spend their days in wealth, And in a moment go down to the grave.
Стр. 46 - Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath done for my soul.
Стр. xiii - Catiline, to remark that his walk was now quick, and again slow, as an indication of a mind revolving something with violent commotion. Thus the story of Melancthon affords a striking lecture on the value of time, by informing us, that when he made an appointment, he expected not only the hour, but the minute to be fixed, that the day might not run out in the idleness of suspense...
Стр. 91 - My soul shall make her boast in the Lord: the humble shall hear thereof, and be glad. O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together. I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears.
Стр. 372 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Стр. 298 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm...

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