The Worst Foe: A Temperance Story

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W.G. Hubbard & Company, 1888 - 385 páginas

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Página 312 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
Página 202 - O unexpected stroke, worse than of death ! Must I thus leave thee, Paradise? thus leave Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of gods? where I had hope to spend, Quiet though sad, the respite of that day That must be mortal to us both.
Página 152 - The world recedes; it disappears! Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring: Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O Grave! where is thy victory? O Death ! where is thy sting ? The Universal Prayer FATHER of all!
Página 69 - Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
Página 80 - OF all the causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind, What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
Página 190 - Accuse not nature, she hath done her part; Do thou but thine, and be not diffident Of wisdom; she deserts thee not, if thou Dismiss not her, when most thou need'st her nigh, By attributing overmuch to things Less excellent, as thou thyself perceiv'st.
Página 27 - What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This, teach me more than hell to shun, That, more than Heaven pursue. What blessings Thy free bounty gives, Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives, T
Página 248 - OH ! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream : Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell ; Mourn — where their God hath dwelt the godless dwell!
Página 228 - Lo! a cloud's about to vanish From the day; And a brazen wrong to crumble Into clay. Lo! the Right's about to conquer; Clear the way! With the right shall many more Enter smiling at the door; With the giant, Wrong, shall fall Many others, great and small, That for ages long have held us For their prey. Men of thought and men of action, Clear the way!
Página 173 - Away ! we know that tears are vain, That death nor heeds nor hears distress : Will this unteach us to complain ? Or make one mourner weep the less? And thou — who tell'st me to forget, Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.

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