The Works of the English Poets: WattsH. Hughs, 1779 |
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... o'er thee a victory boaft ; Her triumph in thy rifing fhall be loft , When thou shalt join th ' angelic choirs above , In never - ending fongs of praife and love . B 2 EUSEBIA . Το то To Mr. WATTS , on his Poems . O [ 3 ]
... o'er thee a victory boaft ; Her triumph in thy rifing fhall be loft , When thou shalt join th ' angelic choirs above , In never - ending fongs of praife and love . B 2 EUSEBIA . Το то To Mr. WATTS , on his Poems . O [ 3 ]
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... o'er the marble meads with withering eyes , Walks o'er the folid lakes , fnuffs up the wind , and dies . Fly to the polar world , my fong , And mourn the pilgrims there , ( a wretched throng ! ) Seiz'd and bound in rigid chains , A ...
... o'er the marble meads with withering eyes , Walks o'er the folid lakes , fnuffs up the wind , and dies . Fly to the polar world , my fong , And mourn the pilgrims there , ( a wretched throng ! ) Seiz'd and bound in rigid chains , A ...
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... o'er the deep , And bury millions in the waves ; Earthquakes , that in midnight fleep Turn cities into heaps , and make our beds our graves ; While you dispense your mortal harms , ' Tis the Creator's voice that founds your loud alarms ...
... o'er the deep , And bury millions in the waves ; Earthquakes , that in midnight fleep Turn cities into heaps , and make our beds our graves ; While you dispense your mortal harms , ' Tis the Creator's voice that founds your loud alarms ...
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... O'er my poor breaft , with boding fears , And , crushing hard my tortur'd foul , Wring through my eyes the briny tears . Forgive my treasons , Prince of Grace ! : The bloody Jews were traitors too , Yet thou haft pray'd for that curs'd ...
... O'er my poor breaft , with boding fears , And , crushing hard my tortur'd foul , Wring through my eyes the briny tears . Forgive my treasons , Prince of Grace ! : The bloody Jews were traitors too , Yet thou haft pray'd for that curs'd ...
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... the foaming brine . But gentler things shall tune his name To fofter notes than these , Young zephyrs breathing o'er the stream , Or whispering through the trees . Wave your tall heads , ye lofty pines , To Wave 164 POEMS , WATTS'S.
... the foaming brine . But gentler things shall tune his name To fofter notes than these , Young zephyrs breathing o'er the stream , Or whispering through the trees . Wave your tall heads , ye lofty pines , To Wave 164 POEMS , WATTS'S.
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aftra angels Behold beneath bleffings bleft blifs breaft breath bright charms chearful command curfed darkneſs dear death delight divine Dreft duft dwell earth eternal eyes facred faints fair falute fame fcenes feas feat feek feet fenfe fhades fhall fhining fhould fight filent filver fing fkies flain flame fleep fmiling fome fong forrows foul fovereign fpirits fræna ftand ftill ftrains ftreams ftrong fuch fweet fwell glory golden grace grief groans happy heart heaven heavenly hell honours immortal Jefus joys juft King light loft Lord mind mortal mourn Mufe muft numbers o'er paffions pain Pindaric pleaſure praiſe reft reigns rife roll round rove ſcenes ſhall ſhe ſhine ſkies ſky SONG ſpeak ſpheres ſpread ſtand ſtars ſtate ſtill ſweet tears thee thefe theſe thine things thofe thoſe thou thoughts thouſand throne thunder tongue Urania vaft whofe wings
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Страница 100 - Here's love and grief beyond degree, The Lord of glory dies for men ! But lo, what fudden joys I fee ! Jefus the dead revives again. The rifing God forfakes the tomb, Up to his father's court he flies; Cherubic legions guard him home, And
Страница 333 - The goodnefs of the Lord ; But fruits of life and glory grow In thy moft holy word. Here are my choiceft treafures hid, Here my beft comfort lies ; Here my defires are fatisfy'd, And hence my hopes arife. Lord, make me underftand thy law ; Shew what my thoughts have been
Страница 47 - Red comets lift their banners high, And wide proclaim his wars. Chain'd to his throne a volume lies, , With all the fates of men, With every angel's form and fize, Drawn by th' eternal pen. His providence unfolds the book, And makes his
Страница 337 - by death to hear their doom. Let me improve the hours I have, Before the day of grace is fled ; There's no repentance in the grave, Nor pardons offer'd to the dead. Juft as a tree cut down, that fell To North or Southward, there is lies
Страница 328 - s not a plant or flower below, But makes thy glories known ; And clouds arife, and tempefts blow, By order from thy throne. 'Creatures ,(as numerous as they be) Are
Страница 100 - Come, faints, and drop a tear or two, On the dear bofom of your God, He fhed a thoufand drops for you, A thoufand drops of richer blood. Here's love and grief beyond degree, The Lord of glory dies for men ! But lo, what fudden joys I fee ! Jefus the dead revives again. The
Страница 366 - without thy care or payment, All thy wants are well fupply'd. How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of God could be, When from heaven he defcended, And became a child like thee
Страница 360 - doves in a large open cage, When they play all in love, without anger or rage, How much may we learn from the fight! If we had been ducks, we might dabble in mud ; Or dogs, we might play till it ended in blood ; So foul and fo fierce are their natures
Страница 328 - with beams of love, With wrath in hell beneath ! 'Tis on his earth I ftand or move, And 'tis his air I breathe. His hand is my perpetual guard; He keeps me with his eye
Страница 330 - and fteal; Lord, I am taught thy name to fear, And do thy holy will.. Are thefe thy favours day by day To me above the reft ? Then let me love Thee more than they, And try to ferve thee