Letters from Ireland, MDCCCXXXVII. By Charlotte Elizabeth

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ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة

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الصفحة 14 - Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail ; The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — No more I weep.
الصفحة 212 - I will seek that which was lost, and bring again that which was driven away, and will bind up that which was broken, and will strengthen that which was sick : but I will destroy the fat and the strong ; I will feed them with judgment.
الصفحة 219 - Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women. And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God. Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.
الصفحة 34 - ... sovereign pleasure what none can receive but as the free gift of him who bought both it and them at the costly price of his own blood ; — if this usurping and malignant power be clearly defined in God's word, branded with a name that expresses a direct and total contrariety to Christ and his gospel, and expressly marked for a final destruction distinct from all other visitations of the divine vengeance, while the only way of escape from that impending doom is opened to its subjects in a proclamation...
الصفحة 14 - Oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people...
الصفحة 212 - Seemeth it a small thing unto you to have eaten up the good pasture, but ye must tread down with your feet the residue of your pastures? and to have drunk of the deep waters, but ye must foul the residue with your feet ? And as for my flock, they eat that which ye have trodden with your feet : and they drink that which ye have fouled with your feet.
الصفحة 283 - God has always a sufficient reason for removing us hence, he willeth not the death of a sinner, but rather that he should be converted and live ;' it is his delight to impart life, not to inflict death.
الصفحة 12 - How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, And sunbeams melt along the silent sea ; For then sweet dreams of other days arise, And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee. And, as I watch the line of light, that plays Along the smooth wave tow'rd the burning west, I long to tread that golden path of rays, And think 'twould lead to some bright isle of rest.
الصفحة 218 - And the angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee : blessed art thou among women.

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