Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
afflictions art thou beauty behold benesits bids blesled blessings blest bliss bloom breast calm charity charms Christian CICERO death delight desires divine dread e'er earth endeavour envy Epictetus eternal ev'ning ev'ry exalted fame fear fense flow'rs folly foul give glorious glory grace hand happiness hath heart Heav'n heav'nly honour hope hour human humble immortal insinite kind labour life's live Lord mankind mercy mind mortal nature ne'er never night o'er ourselves pain passions paths peace pity pleasing pleasure PLUTARCH poison'd poor pow'r praise pride prosit religion resign rest rich rife rill sacred scene serene shade shew shine sields silent sind sirst skies smile sorrow soul sweet tear temper tempest thee thine things thou thought thro thunders roll toil true truth vice virtue virtuous wealth wife wisdom wish youth
Seite 170 - Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate All but the page prescribed, their present state: From brutes what men, from men what spirits know: Or who could suffer being here below ? The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play ? Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
Seite 141 - The chamber where the good man meets his fate, Is privileg'd beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heav'n.
Seite 169 - Our portion is not large, indeed ; But then how little do we need ! For nature's calls are few : In this the art of living lies, To want no more than may suffice, And make that little do.
Seite 51 - O thou bounteous giver of all good, Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown ! Give what thou canst, without thee we are poor ; And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.
Seite 158 - Then see the sorrows of my heart, Ere yet it be too late ; And hear my Saviour's dying groans, To give those sorrows weight. VI. For never shall my soul despair Her pardon to procure, Who knows thine only Son has died To make her pardon sure.
Seite 168 - If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies; And they are fools who roam : The world has nothing to bestow ; From our own selves our joys must flow, And that dear hut, our home.
Seite 120 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earned.
Seite 191 - Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind: His soul, proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or Milky Way: Yet simple Nature to his hope has given.
Seite 157 - IT is of the last importance to season the passions of a child with devotion, which seldom dies in a mind that has received an early tincture of it. Though it may seem extinguished for a while by the cares of the world, the heats of youth, or the allurements of vice, it generally breaks out and discovers itself again as soon as discretion, consideration, age, or misfortunes have brought the man to himself. The fire may be covered and overlaid, but cannot be entirely quenched and smothered.