Some account of the late D. P. W., ... with extracts from his letters

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Privately printed, 1841

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Стр. 202 - Shine not in vain ; nor think, though men were none, That Heaven would want spectators, God want praise Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep : All these with ceaseless praise his works behold Both day and night...
Стр. 168 - O my beloved rocks, that rise To awe the earth and brave the skies, From some aspiring mountain's crown, How dearly do I love, Giddy with pleasure, to look down ; And, from the vales, to view the noble heights above...
Стр. 168 - O my beloved nymph, fair Dove, Princess of rivers, how I love Upon thy flowery banks to lie, And view thy silver stream, When gilded by a Summer's beam! And in it all thy wanton fry Playing at liberty, And, with my angle, upon them The all of treachery I ever learned industriously to try!
Стр. 86 - Wisdom is glorious, and never fadeth away: yea, she is easily seen of them that love her, and found of such as seek her. She preventeth them that desire her, in making herself first known unto them. Whoso seeketh her early shall have no great travail: for he shall find her sitting at his doors.
Стр. 169 - With thine, much purer, to compare; The rapid Garonne and the winding Seine Are both too mean, Beloved Dove, with thee To vie priority; Nay, Tame and Isis, when conjoined, submit, And lay their trophies at thy silver feet.
Стр. 126 - As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country.
Стр. 177 - Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and say all manner of evil against you falsely for my sake.
Стр. 52 - BEHOLD, how good and joyful a thing it is, for brethren to dwell together in unity...
Стр. 23 - For none of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself. 8 For whether we live, we live unto the Lord ; and whether we die, we die unto the Lord : whether we live therefore, or die, we are the Lord's.
Стр. 53 - Should thine altered hand restrain The early and the latter rain ; Blast each opening bud of joy, And the rising year destroy ; Yet to Thee my soul should raise Grateful vows and solemn praise ; And when every blessing's flown, Love Thee — for Thyself alone.

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