A man without a name [by B.C. Grey] ed. by the dowager countess of Morley, Band 1

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Seite 251 - Let us be patient! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise. We see but dimly through the mists and vapours; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.
Seite 1 - Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly longed for death. " 'Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, Oh life, not death, for which we pant ; More life, and fuller, that I want.
Seite 43 - Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring, No endless night, yet not eternal day; The saddest birds a season find to sing, The roughest storm a calm may soon allay: Thus, with succeeding turns, God tempereth all, That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall.
Seite 184 - WHAT shall I do with all the days and hours That must be counted ere I see thy face ? How shall I charm the interval that lowers Between this *time and that...
Seite 309 - Fire-side enjoyments, home-born happiness, And all the comforts, that the lowly roof Of undisturbed retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted evening, know.
Seite 184 - I'll tell thee; for thy sake I will lay hold Of all good aims, and consecrate to thee, In worthy deeds, each moment that is told While thou, beloved one! art far from me.
Seite 59 - COME unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you.
Seite 160 - A sacred burden is this life ye bear, Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly ; Stand up, and walk beneath it steadfastly ; Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin, But onward, upward, till the goal ye win ; — God guard ye, and God guide ye on your way, Young pilgrim-warriors, who set forth to-day.
Seite 21 - What medicine can any leaches art Yeeld such a sore, that doth her grievance hide, And will to none her maladie impart ! Such was the wound that Scudamour did gride; For which Dan Phebus selfe cannot a salve provide.

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