The Ackworth reading book, being selections from the best English authors in prose and poetry, for the use of Ackworth school, by W. Pollard1865 |
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Страница 10
... thee or myself ! Surely thou comest not hither without a providence . God sent thee not so much to delight , as to shame me , but all in a convic- tion of my sullen unbelief , who , under more apparent means , am less cheerful and ...
... thee or myself ! Surely thou comest not hither without a providence . God sent thee not so much to delight , as to shame me , but all in a convic- tion of my sullen unbelief , who , under more apparent means , am less cheerful and ...
Страница 20
... thee now in thy beamy walk through the midst of thy sanctuary , amidst those golden candlesticks , which have long suffered a dimness amongst us through the violence of those that had seized them , and were more taken with the mention ...
... thee now in thy beamy walk through the midst of thy sanctuary , amidst those golden candlesticks , which have long suffered a dimness amongst us through the violence of those that had seized them , and were more taken with the mention ...
Страница 21
... thee , standing on the shore of that Red Sea into which our enemies had almost driven us . And he that now for haste snatches up a plain ungarnished present as a thank - offering to thee , which could not be deferred in regard of thy so ...
... thee , standing on the shore of that Red Sea into which our enemies had almost driven us . And he that now for haste snatches up a plain ungarnished present as a thank - offering to thee , which could not be deferred in regard of thy so ...
Страница 24
... thee with weakness and weariness ; thy aching head and heart , thy hunger and thirst , thy sleep and labour , are all gone . O , what a mighty change is this ! From the dunghill to the throne ! From persecuting sinners to praising ...
... thee with weakness and weariness ; thy aching head and heart , thy hunger and thirst , thy sleep and labour , are all gone . O , what a mighty change is this ! From the dunghill to the throne ! From persecuting sinners to praising ...
Страница 27
... thee ? " Then I asked him his name , and where he dwelt . He said his name was Adam the first , and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit . I asked him then , what was his work , and what the wages that he would give . He told me , that ...
... thee ? " Then I asked him his name , and where he dwelt . He said his name was Adam the first , and that he dwelt in the town of Deceit . I asked him then , what was his work , and what the wages that he would give . He told me , that ...
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admiration animal appear birds blessing bread Brownist called Carthusians character Charon cheerful Christian church Cobham corn creatures danger death delighted earth EDWARD MIALL enemies England evil eyes faith father fear feeling fire friends give glory hand happy hath heard heart heaven holy honour hope House of Commons human Joseph Sturge kind king knew Kuruman labour land live Lollardism London Charterhouse look Lord Lord Cobham mankind ment mind moral morning mother nation nature never night noble once passed peace pemmican perhaps political poor Puritans Rachel Reformation religion Rephidim rest round scene seemed seen slavery slaves soul spirit tell thee things Thomas Clarkson thou thought tion told Trim truth turn uncle Toby voice walk WASHINGTON IRVING whole words young
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Страница 370 - Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad ; Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale ; She all night long her amorous descant sung...
Страница 388 - Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; The next, with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne: Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Страница 62 - And he gave it for his opinion, " that whoever could make two ears of corn, or two blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground, where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and do more essential service to his country, than, the whole race of politicians put together.
Страница 392 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.
Страница 367 - I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts ; I am no orator, as Brutus is ; But as you know me all, a plain blunt man. That love my friend ; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood : I only speak right on...
Страница 421 - Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.
Страница 369 - So good, so noble, and so true a master ? Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. The king shall have my service ; but my prayers For ever and for ever shall be yours.
Страница 386 - Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Страница 393 - On what foundation stands the warrior's pride, How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide. A frame of adamant, a soul of fire, No dangers fright him, and no labours tire ; O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain...
Страница 421 - TELL me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.