Religious Consolation

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J. Dowe, 1837 - 227 من الصفحات
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الصفحة 139 - Are not my days few? Cease then, and let me alone, that I may take comfort a little before I go whence I shall not return, even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death; a land of darkness, as darkness itself, and of the shadow of death, without any order and where the light is as darkness.
الصفحة xv - My heart panteth, my strength faileth me : as for the light of mine eyes, it also is gone from me.
الصفحة 52 - The hills Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun; the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between; The venerable woods, rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
الصفحة 147 - But as touching the resurrection of the dead, have ye not read that which was spoken unto you by God, saying, I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob ? God is not the God of the dead, but of the living.
الصفحة 216 - The winds breathe low ; the withering leaf Scarce whispers from the tree ; So gently flows the parting breath, When good men cease to be.
الصفحة 52 - Yet not to thine eternal resting-place Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings, The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, All in one mighty sepulchre.
الصفحة 144 - ... from many mistakes, and a skill had been laboriously acquired in the use of many powers. And the being I looked upon had just compassed that most useful, most practical of all knowledge,— how to live and to act well and wisely. Yet I have seen such an one die. Was all this treasure gained only to be lost? Were all these faculties trained only to be thrown into utter disuse? Was this instrument, the intelligent soul, the noblest in the universe,— was it so laboriously fashioned, and by the...
الصفحة 174 - BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN." OH, deem not they are blest alone Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep ; The Power who pities man, has shown A blessing for the eyes that weep. The light of smiles shall fill again The lids that overflow with tears; And weary hours of woe and pain Are promises of happier years.
الصفحة 130 - MY God, I thank thee ! may no thought E'er deem thy chastisements severe; But may this heart, by sorrow taught, Calm each wild wish, each idle fear. 2 Thy mercy bids all nature bloom ; The sun shines bright, and man is gay; Thine equal mercy spreads the gloom, That darkens o'er his little day. 3 Full many a throb of grief and pain Thy frail and erring child must know: But not one prayer is breathed in vain, Nor does one tear unheeded flow.
الصفحة 174 - There is a day of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night ; And Grief may bide, an evening guest, But Joy shall come with early light.

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