English Poems: Together with His Collection of Proverbs Entitled Jacula Prudentum

الغلاف الأمامي
Longmans, Green, and Company, 1891
 

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الصفحة 42 - Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin, Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes, Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in, Bibles laid open, millions of surprises, Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness, The sound of glory ringing in our ears ; Without, our shame ; within, our consciences ; Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears. Yet all these fences and their whole array One cunning bosom-sin blows quite away.
الصفحة 73 - The indorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a Friend, and with His blood ; The couch of time ; care's balm and bay ; The week were dark, but for thy light ; Thy torch doth show the way.
الصفحة 3 - THOU, whose sweet youth and early hopes enhance Thy rate and price, and mark thee for a treasure, Hearken unto a Verser, who may chance Rhyme thee to good, and make a bait of pleasure : A verse may find him, who a Sermon flies, And turn delight into a Sacrifice.
الصفحة 189 - But by book, And thy book alone. Though I fail, I weep : Though I halt in pace, Yet I creep To the throne of grace. Then let wrath remove ; Love will do the deed : For with love Stony hearts will bleed. Love is swift of foot ; Love's a man of war, And can shoot, And can hit from far. Who can 'scape his bow ? That which wrought on thee, Brought thee low, Needs must work on me. Throw away thy rod ; Though man frailties hath, Thou art God : Throw away thy wrath.
الصفحة 173 - The Flower How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are thy returns! ev'n as the flowers in spring; To which, besides their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.
الصفحة 199 - A guest, I answer'd, worthy to be here : Love said, You shall be he. I, the unkind, ungrateful ? Ah, my dear, I cannot look on thee.
الصفحة 160 - No more ! I will abroad! What ! shall I ever sigh and pine ? My lines and life are free, free as the road, Loose as the wind, as large as store.
الصفحة 174 - And now in age I bud again, After so many deaths I live and write; 1 once more smell the dew and rain, And relish versing: O, my only light, It cannot be That I am he On whom thy tempests fell all night.
الصفحة 37 - I GOT me flowers to straw Thy way; I got me boughs off many a tree: But Thou wast up by break of day, And brought'st Thy sweets along with Thee. The sun arising in the east, Though he give light, and th' east perfume; If they should offer to contest With Thy arising, they presume.
الصفحة 18 - Sum up at night what thou hast done by day ; And in the morning, what thou hast to do. Dress and undress thy soul ; mark the decay And growth of it. If, with thy watch, that too Be down, then wind up both. Since we shall be Most surely judged, make thy accounts agree.

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