The Works of the English Poets: Watts |
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angels arms awful bear beauty Behold beneath blood break breath bright charms command dead dear death deep delight divine dwell earth eternal eyes face faint fair fall fear feel feet fight fire flame foul give glory golden grace grow hand happy head hear heart heaven heavenly hell hills honours hope immortal Jeſus joys juſt King leave lies light live look Lord meet mind mortal mourn move Muſe muſt nature never night o'er pain paſſions pleaſure powers praiſe reigns riſe roll round ſacred ſcenes ſeas ſee ſenſe ſhall ſhe ſhining ſhould ſing ſkies ſky ſmile ſome ſong ſoul ſound ſpread ſtand ſtars ſtill ſuch ſun ſweet tears tell thee theſe thine things thoſe thou thoughts thouſand throne thunder tongue turn vain whoſe wind wings young
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Страница 348 - And labours hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labour or of skill I would be busy too: For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play Let my first years be past, That I may give for every day Some good account at last.
Страница 368 - Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber ; Holy angels guard thy bed ; Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head. Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide ; All without thy care, or payment, All thy wants are well supplied.
Страница 367 - A SUMMER EVENING. How fine has the day been! how bright was the sun, How lovely and joyful the course that he run ! Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun, And there followed some droppings of rain ; But now the fair traveller's come to the west, His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best ; He paints the...
Страница 368 - Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide; All without thy care or payment: All thy wants are well supplied. How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of God could be, When from heaven He descended And became a child like thee! Soft and easy is thy cradle: Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable And His softest bed was hay.
Страница 328 - How great his power is, none can tell, Nor think how large his grace ; Not men below, nor saints that dwell On high before his face.
Страница 362 - If we had been ducks we might dabble in mud ; Or dogs, we might play till it ended in blood ; So foul and so fierce are their natures : But Thomas and William, and such pretty names, Should be cleanly and harmless as doves or as lambs, Those lovely sweet innocent creatures.
Страница 163 - Lord, what shall earth and ashes do? We would adore our Maker too! From sin and dust, to thee we cry, The Great, the Holy, and the High.
Страница 338 - I lie ; Upward I dare not look; Pardon my sins before I die, And blot them from thy book. Remember all the dying pains That my Redeemer felt, And let his blood wash out my stains, And answer for my guilt.
Страница 359 - To God the Father, God the Son, And God the Spirit, three in one, Be honor, praise, and glory given, By all on earth, and all in heaven.
Страница 100 - Here's love and grief beyond degree, The Lord of glory dies for men ! But lo ! what sudden joys we see ! Jesus the dead revives again ! 4 The rising God forsakes the tomb ! Up to his Father's court he flies ; Cherubic legions guard him home, And shout him welcome to the skies.
Библиография
| Заглавие | The Works of the English Poets: Watts Том 46 от The Works of the English Poets, Samuel Johnson Том 46 от The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Henry Hughs |
| Автор | Samuel Johnson |
| Редактор | Samuel Johnson |
| Издател | H. Hughs, 1779 |
| Оригиналът е от | Нюйоркската обществена библиотека |
| Цифровизирана на | 22 ноем. 2006 |
| Експортиране на описанието | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |