Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 31

Couverture
W. Blackwood & Sons, 1832
 

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Page 450 - But know this, that if the goodman of the house had known in what watch the thief would come, he would have watched, and would not have suffered his house to be broken up, 44 Therefore be ye also ready: for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh.
Page 27 - All sacrifices do but speed forward that great day, when the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters cover the sea.
Page 478 - ... we therefore commit his body to the ground ; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ : who shall change our vile body, that it may be like unto his glorious body, according to the mighty working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself.
Page 240 - Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar, While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit began ; No more with himself or with nature at war, He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.
Page 258 - Let's forge a goodly anchor ; a Bower, thick and broad : For a heart of oak is hanging on every blow, I bode ; And I see the good ship riding all in a perilous road, The low reef roaring on her lee ; the roll of ocean...
Page 258 - King, and royal craftsmen we ; Strike in, strike in, the sparks begin to dull their rustling red!" Our hammers ring with sharper din, our work will soon be sped ; Our anchor soon must change...
Page 257 - tis at a white heat now: The bellows ceased, the flames decreased though on the forge's brow The little flames still fitfully play through the sable mound, And fitfully you still may see the grim smiths ranking round, All clad in leathern panoply, their broad hands only bare: Some rest upon their sledges here, some work the windlass there.
Page 523 - Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, Along Morea's hills the setting sun: Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light! O'er the hush'd deep the yellow beam he throws Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows.
Page 237 - Heaven o'er my head seems made of molten brass, The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad. I am acquainted with sad misery As the tanned galley-slave is with his oar; Necessity makes me suffer constantly, And custom makes it easy.
Page 192 - Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! Bird thou never wert, That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.

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