The Future Life: As Described and Portrayed by Spirits

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W. White, 1871 - 403 pages
 

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Page 69 - THE Lord my pasture shall prepare, And feed me with a shepherd's care ; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye ; My noonday walks he shall attend, And all my midnight hours defend.
Page 82 - When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, When mine are blanch'd with fear.
Page 189 - I WOULD not live alway : I ask not to stay Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way ; The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here, Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer. 2 I would not live alway...
Page 500 - These wait their doom, from that great law Which makes the past time serve to-day ; And fresher life the world shall draw From their decay.
Page 11 - We live in deeds, not years ; in thoughts, not breaths ; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
Page 197 - Och! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling! To catch dame Fortune's golden smile, Assiduous wait upon her; And gather gear by ev'ry wile That's justified by honour; Not for to hide it in a hedge, Nor for a train attendant; But for the glorious privilege Of being independent. The fear o...
Page 88 - No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, But, choked with sedges, works its weedy way. Along thy glades, a solitary guest, The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries. Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall; And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, Far, far away, thy children leave the land.
Page 213 - The outworn rite, the old abuse, The pious fraud transparent grown, The good held captive in the use Of wrong alone...
Page 19 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Page 197 - Remove far from me vanity and lies ; give me neither poverty, nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me: lest I be full and deny thee, and say, who is the Lord? or lest I be poor and steal, and take the name of my God in vain.

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