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Книги Книги 110 от 165 за There is no Death ! What seems so is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but....
" There is no Death ! What seems so is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian Whose portal we call Death. She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor... "
The native poets of Maine - Страница 22
по S. Herbert Lancey - 1854 - 312 страници
Пълен достъп - Информация за книгата

The General Baptist repository, and Missionary observer [afterw.] The ...

1851
...so is transition ; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life Elysian, Whose portals we call Death. She is not dead— the child of our affection—...our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule. Day after day we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air. Year after year her tender...

The General Baptist repository, and Missionary observer [afterw.] The ...

1861
...our poor protection. BWCtout himself doth rule.1 In that great cloister's stillness and leclution. By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She livci, whom we call dead. These beautiful lines express the hopes and consolations of Mr. and Mrs....

The Children's magazine [afterw.] The Children's magazine and missionary ...

Joseph Foulkes Winks - 1856
...so is transition ; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death. She is not dead — the child of our affection...Day after day we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air: Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, Behold her grown more fair. Thus...

The Gospel herald; or, Poor Christian's magazine, Том 11

1880
...band.•' His sorrowing parents — his Sabbathschool teachers — all who loved him, here know that " He is not dead— the child of our affection— But gone unto that school Where he no longer needs our poor protection. And Christ himself doth rule.•* Dear children, is your hope...

The Living Age ..., Том 24

1850
...so is transition ; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portals we call Death. She is not dead — the child of our affection...Day after day we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air ; Year after year her tender steps pursuing, Behold her grown more fair. Thus...

The Church

1856
...elysian, Whose portal we call Death. Site is not dead — the child of our affection — But gone untft that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection. And Christ himself doth rule. In lhat great cluisier's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels ltd, ,'"!:<• from temptation, safe...

Sartain's Union Magazine of Literature and Art, Томове 4–5

John Seely Hart - 1849
...suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death. She ie not dead— the child of our affectionBut gone unto that school, Where she no longer needs our...Day after day we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air} Year нпег year, her tender steps pursuing, Behold her grown more fair. Thus...

Echoes of Infant Voices

1849 - 144 страници
...but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death. She is not dead, — the child of oar affection, — But gone unto that school Where she...from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead. Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, Behold her grown more fair. Thus do we walk with her, and...

Stryker's American Register and Magazine, Том 2

1849
...so is transition; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life Elysian, Whose portals we call Death. She is not dead — the child of our affection...great Cloister's stillness and seclusion By guardian angrls led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead. VOL. II.—...

Memorials of Bertie's brother and infant sister, by their mother

Bertie (fict.name.) - 1849
...are not dead ! the (lambs) of our affection, But gone into that school Where (they) no longer need our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule....Safe from temptation — safe from sin's pollution — (They live) whom we call dead. " Day after day we think what (they are) doing In those bright realms...




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