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The Broken Font, by the Author of 'Tales of the Wars of Our Times'.
Joseph Moyle Sherer
No preview available - 2012
already arms Arthur better blessed body called Cheddar church close cousin cross Cuthbert dear death duty expression eyes face fair faith father fear feeling felt field followed Francis gave give grave ground hand happy hath head hear heard heart Heywood hope horse hour Italy Jane join Juxon Katharine kind King lady Lambert light live look Lord manner Martin Master mean Milverton mind minister Mistress morning nature never night Noble observed once party passed peace person poor prayer present seen side silent Sir Charles Sir Oliver soldier soon sound spirit steps stood strange suffer sweet sword taken tears tell thee thing thou thought took trouble true turned voice walked wish young
Page 34 - AND is there care in heaven ? and is there love In heavenly spirits to these creatures base, That may compassion of their evils move ? There is...
Page 295 - With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced quire below, In service high and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.
Page 281 - He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know At first sight if the bird be flown; But what fair well or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown.
Page 135 - It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he cast into the sea, than that he should offend one of these little ones.
Page 150 - He neither shall be born In housen nor in hall, Nor in the place of Paradise, But in an ox's stall. ' He neither shall be clothed In purple nor in pall, But all in fair linen As wear babies all. ' He neither shall be rocked In silver nor in gold, But in a wooden cradle That rocks on the mould, ' He neither shall be christened In white wine nor red, But with fair spring water With which we were christened.
Page 197 - But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
Page 203 - Even as a nurse whose child's imperfect pace Can hardly lead his foot from place to place, Leaves her fond kissing, sets him down to go, Nor does uphold him for a step or two : But when she finds that he begins to fall, She holds him up, and kisses him withal ; — So God from man sometimes withdraws his hand Awhile, to teach his infant faith to stand, But when he sees his feeble strength begin To fail, he gently takes him up again.
Page 172 - The moon shines bright, and the stars give a light, A little before it is day; So God bless you all, both great and small, And send you a joyful May ! THE HELSTONE FURRY-DAY SONG.
Page 51 - Tut, tut ! good enough to toss'; food for powder, food for powder ; they'll fill a pit, as well as better : tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.
Page 34 - With His heavenly dew so sweet. The heavenly gates are open wide, Our paths are beaten plain, And if a man be not too far gone, He may return again. The life of man is but a span, It flourishes like a flower, We are here to-day and gone to-morrow, And we are dead in an hour.