The Young Lady's Offering; Or, Gems of Prose and Poetry

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Phillips & Sampson, 1848 - 264 pages

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Page 175 - While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept: for I said, Who can tell whether God will be gracious to me, that the child may live? But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.
Page 263 - MAN, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.
Page 239 - I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless; That only men incredulous of despair, Half-taught in anguish, through the mid-night air Beat upward to God's throne in loud access Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare Of the absolute Heavens.
Page 263 - Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts; shut not thy merciful ears to our prayer; but spare us, Lord most holy, O God most mighty, O holy and merciful Saviour, thou most worthy Judge eternal, suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from thee.
Page 15 - And they came to the place which God had told him of; and Abraham built an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood. And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son.
Page 201 - tis lovely! — Childhood's lip and cheek, Mantling beneath its earnest brow of thought — Gaze — yet what seest thou in those fair, and meek, And fragile things, as but for sunshine wrought? — Thou seest what grief must nurture for the sky, What death must fashion for eternity ! O ! joyous creatures ! that will sink to rest.
Page 263 - He cometh up, and is cut down like a flower : he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay. In the midst of life we are in death : of whom may we seek for succour, but of thee, O Lord, who for our sins art justly displeased...
Page 202 - Her lot is on you ! — to be found untired, Watching the stars out by the bed of pain, With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspired, And a true heart of hope, though hope be vain ! Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer decay, And, oh ! to love through all things — therefore pray.
Page 5 - OH ! ask not, hope thou not too much Of sympathy below ; Few are the hearts whence one same touch Bids the sweet fountains flow : Few — and by still conflicting powers Forbidden here to meet — Such ties would make this life of ours Too fair for aught so fleet.

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