Shining Ferry

Couverture
C. Scribner's sons, 1905 - 405 pages
 

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Page 297 - Our gude ship sails the morn." "Now ever alake, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm! I saw the new moon, late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm.
Page 92 - tis Love ! thou diedst for me : I hear thy whisper in my heart ! The morning breaks, the shadows flee, Pure, universal love thou art. To me, to all, thy bowels move ; Thy Nature and thy Name is Love.
Page 112 - And they shall hang upon him all the glory of his father's house, the offspring and the issue, all vessels of small quantity, from the vessels of cups, even to all the vessels of flagons.
Page 93 - tis Love! Thou diedst for me! I hear Thy whisper in my heart! The morning breaks, the shadows flee; Pure universal Love Thou art ! To me, to all, Thy bowels move; Thy nature, and Thy name, is Love!
Page 99 - But saints are lovely in his sight ; He views his children with delight : He sees their hope, he knows their fear, And looks, and loves his image there.
Page 99 - AH, lovely appearance of death ! What sight upon earth is so fair* Not all the gay pageants that breathe Can with a dead body compare : With solemn delight I survey The corpse, when the spirit is fled. In love with the beautiful clay, And longing to lie in its stead.
Page 51 - All the rivers run into the sea, and yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence the rivers came, thither do they return again...
Page 92 - tis Love! Thou diedst for me, I hear thy whisper in my heart. The morning breaks, the shadows flee: . Pure Universal Love thou art; To me, to all, thy bowels move, Thy nature and thy name is Love.
Page 209 - LORD, dismiss us with Thy blessing; Thanks for mercies past receive; Pardon all, their faults confessing; Time that's lost may all retrieve! May Thy children Ne'er again Thy Spirit grieve!
Page 179 - Bring me my bow of burning gold: Bring me my Arrows of desire: Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold! Bring me my Chariot of fire. I will not cease from Mental Fight, Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand Till we have built Jerusalem In England's green and pleasant Land.

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