The Atlantic Monthly, Том 135Atlantic Monthly Company, 1925 |
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American asked Atlantic beauty become Beisan believe Bethshean British called cent centimetres Christian Christopher Morley Church civilization Clare Island coöperation course dear door Egypt England eyes face fact farmers Federal Horticultural Board feel feet follow France French German Government hand head human Iceland Indian interest King Solomon Kirkwall knew labor land learned less light living looked Lydiat means ment miles mind modern mustard gas nation nature Nell Shipman never night once passed perhaps political present prison Protestantism railroad religion road RUDOLPH FISHER seemed Shanghai side spirit stand Sudan sure tell Theodosia Theophilus thing thought Tientsin tion to-day told turn vote woman women wonder word young
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Страница 687 - The mystery of the seven stars which thou sawest in my right hand, and the seven golden candlesticks. The seven stars are the angels of the seven churches : and the seven candlesticks which thou sawest are the seven churches.
Страница 202 - The Lord, ye know, is God indeed, Without our aid He did us make: We are His flock, He doth us feed And for his sheep He doth us take.
Страница 150 - And the children of Joseph said, The hill is not enough for us : and all the Canaanites that dwell in the land of the valley have chariots of iron, both they who are of Beth-shean and her towns, and they who are of the valley of Jezreel.
Страница 618 - And he said unto them, Unto you it is given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God: but unto them that are without, all these things are done in parables...
Страница 293 - Most men eddy about Here and there — eat and drink, Chatter and love and hate, Gather and squander, are raised Aloft, are hurl'd in the dust, Striving blindly, achieving Nothing; and then they die Perish; - and no one asks Who or what they have been, More than he asks what waves, In the moonlit solitudes mild Of the midmost Ocean, have swell'd, Foam'd for a moment, and gone.
Страница 300 - I have watched Thy shadow, and the darkness of thy steps, And my heart ever gazes on the depth Of thy deep mysteries. I have made my bed In charnels and on coffins, where black death Keeps record of the trophies won from thee, Hoping to still these obstinate questionings Of thee and thine, by forcing some lone ghost, Thy messenger, to render up the tale Of what we are.
Страница 210 - For my own part I would as soon be descended from that heroic little monkey, who braved his dreaded enemy in order to save the life of his keeper; or from that old baboon, who, descending from the mountains, carried away in triumph his young comrade from a crowd of astonished...
Страница 300 - Hoping to still these obstinate questionings Of thee and thine, by forcing some lone ghost Thy messenger, to render up the tale Of what we are. In lone and silent hours, When night makes a weird sound of its own stillness...
Страница 215 - Speak gently, Spring, and make no sudden sound; For in my windy valley yesterday I found New-born foxes squirming on the ground — Speak gently. Walk softly, March, forbear the bitter blow; Her feet within a trap, her blood upon the snow, The four little foxes' saw their mother go — Walk softly.
Страница 150 - And they cut off his head, and stripped off his armour, and sent into the land of the Philistines round about, to publish it in the house of their idols, and among the people. 10 And they put his armour in the house of Ashtaroth: and they fastened his body to the wall of Bethshan.