The British Poets: Including Translations ...

الغلاف الأمامي
C. Whittingham, 1822
 

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الصفحة 38 - Before him went the pestilence, and burning coals went forth at his feet. He stood, and measured the earth: he beheld, and drove asunder the nations; and the everlasting mountains were scattered, the perpetual hills did bow: his ways are everlasting.
الصفحة 112 - Here's love and grief beyond degree, The Lord of glory dies for men ! But lo ! what sudden joys we see ! Jesus the dead revives again. 4 The rising God forsakes the tomb ; Up to His Father's court He flies ! Cherubic legions guard Him home, And shout His welcome to the skies.
الصفحة 113 - Where's thy sting ?" And " Where's thy victory, boasting grave ?
الصفحة 38 - Then the channels of waters were seen, and the foundations of the world were discovered at thy rebuke, O LORD, at the blast of the breath of thy nostrils.
الصفحة 36 - It is he that sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers; that stretcheth out the heavens as a curtain, and spreadeth them out as a tent to dwell in: that bringeth the princes to nothing; he maketh the judges of the earth as vanity.
الصفحة 65 - Here the whole Deity is known; Nor dares a creature guess,— Which of the glories brightest shone, The justice, or the grace.
الصفحة 59 - Look up, my soul, pant tow'rd th' eternal hills ; Those heavens are fairer than they seem ; There pleasures all sincere glide on in crystal rills, There not a dreg of guilt defiles, Nor grief disturbs the stream. That Canaan knows no noxious thing, No cursed soil, no tainted spring, Nor roses grow on thorns, nor honey wears a sting.
الصفحة 96 - Infinite strength, and equal skill, Shine through the worlds abroad; Our souls with vast amazement fill, And speak the builder — God. 5 But the sweet beauties of thy grace Our softer passions move ; Pity divine, in Jesus' face, We see, adore, and love.
الصفحة 55 - My God, I would not long to see My fate, with curious eyes; What gloomy lines are writ for me, Or what bright scenes may rise. 8 In thy fair book of life and grace, O may I find my name, Recorded in some humble place, Beneath my Lord the Lamb.
الصفحة 114 - How the poor sailors stand amazed and tremble! While the hoarse thunder, like a bloody trumpet, Roars a loud onset to the gaping waters, Quick to devour them. Such shall the noise be, and the wild disorder, (If things eternal may be like these earthly) Such the dire terror when the great archangel Shakes the creation...

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