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Страница 171 - I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine. As the Father knoweth me, even so know I the Father, and I lay down my life for the sheep. And other sheep I have which are not of this fold ; them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice, and there shall be one fold and one shepherd.
Страница 2 - Falsely luxurious, will not man awake; And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour To meditation due and sacred song? For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise? To lie in dead oblivion, losing half •The fleeting moments of too short a life; Total extinction of th
Страница 145 - But not long after there arose against it a tempestuous wind, called Euroclydon. And when the ship was caught, and could not bear up into the wind, we let her drive. And running under a certain island which is called Clauda. we had much work to come by the boat : which when they had taken up, they used helps, undergirding the ship ; and, fearing lest they should fall into the quicksands, strake sail, and so were driven.
Страница 145 - And when neither sun nor stars in many days appeared, and no small tempest lay on us, all hope that we should be saved was then taken away.
Страница 144 - TIRED Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep ! He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where Fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes ; Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe, And lights on lids unsullied with a tear.
Страница 174 - From some kind eye, the meanest claim'da tear. And oft the living, by affection led, "Were wont to walk in spirit with their dead, Where no dark cypress cast a doleful gloom, No blighting yew shed poison o'er the tomb, But, white and red with intermingling flowers, The graves look'd beautiful in sun and showers. Green myrtles fenced it, and beyond their bound Ran the clear rill with ever-murmuring sound ; 'T was not a scene for Grief to nourish care, It breathed of Hope, and moved the heart to prayer.
Страница 90 - ... fully persuaded that He was able to keep that which she had committed unto Him.
Страница 8 - The unshorn mead, where never shepherd dared To feed his flock, and the scythe never came ; But o'er its vernal sweets unshorn the bee Ranges at will, and modest nature rolls The irriguous streamlet ; garish art hath there No share : of these the modest still may cull At pleasure, interdicted to the impure ; But for thy golden tresses, honour'd queen, Receive this garland from my pious hands.