The Prospective Review: A Quarterly Journal of Theology and Literature, Հատոր 3

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John Chapman, 1847
 

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Էջ 224 - Lady ! we receive but what we give, And in our life alone does nature live : Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud ! And would we aught behold, of higher worth, Than that inanimate cold world allowed To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd, Ah ! from the soul itself must issue forth, A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud Enveloping the Earth...
Էջ 78 - With her great Master so to sympathize : It was no season then for her To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. Only with speeches fair She woos the gentle air To hide her guilty front with innocent snow ; And on her naked shame, Pollute with sinful blame, The saintly veil of maiden white to throw ; Confounded, that her Maker's eyes Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
Էջ 94 - His very word of grace is strong As that which built the skies ; The voice that rolls the stars along Speaks all the Promises.
Էջ 584 - But they which shall be accounted worthy to obtain that world, and the resurrection from the dead, neither marry, nor are given in marriage: Neither can they die any more: for they are equal unto the angels; and are the children of God, being the children of the resurrection.
Էջ 94 - Tell of His wondrous faithfulness And sound His power abroad ; Sing the sweet promise of His grace, And the performing God. Proclaim salvation from the Lord For wretched dying men ; His hand has writ the sacred Word With an immortal pen.
Էջ 78 - O run; prevent them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blessed feet; Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet And join thy voice unto the angel quire, From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire.
Էջ 101 - Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth.
Էջ 234 - I call therefore a complete and generous education, that which fits a man to perform justly, skilfully, and magnanimously all the offices, both private and public, of peace and war.
Էջ 220 - ... veiling its spectral wrecks of massy ruins, on whose rents the red light rests, like dying fire on defiled altars. The blue ridge of the Alban Mount lifts itself against a solemn space of green, clear, quiet sky. Watch-towers of dark clouds stand steadfastly along the promontories of the Apennines. From the plain to the mountains, the shattered aqueducts, pier beyond pier, melt into the darkness, like shadowy and countless troops of funeral mourners, passing from a nation's grave.
Էջ 99 - Is He a Star ? He breaks the night, Piercing the shades with dawning light ; I know His glories from afar, I know the bright, the morning Star...

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