A Year of Beautiful Thoughts

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T.Y. Crowell, 1902 - 402 páginas
 

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Página 343 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near...
Página 23 - And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye ' Or how wilt thou (Say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye : and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.
Página 264 - What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?
Página 85 - Blessed is the man that trusteth in the Lord, and whose hope the Lord is : For he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, and that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and shall not see when heat cometh, but her leaf shall be green ; and shall not be careful in the year of drought, neither shall cease from yielding fruit.
Página 30 - He giveth snow like wool : He scattereth the hoarfrost like ashes. He casteth forth His ice like morsels : Who can stand before His cold? He sendeth out His word, and melteth them : He causeth His wind to blow, and the waters flow.
Página 96 - They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end.
Página 311 - When hastening fondly home, Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies Where idle warblers roam. But high she shoots through air and light, Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way.
Página 289 - And besought him greatly, saying, My little daughter lieth at the point of death: I pray thee, come and lay thy hands on her, that she may be healed; and she shall live.
Página 342 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Página 180 - Abide with me from morn till eve, For without thee I cannot live ; Abide with me when night is nigh, For without thee I dare not die.

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