A Universal Prayer ; Death ; A Vision of Heaven ; and A Vision of Hell

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Samuel Maunder, 1829 - Fore-edge painting - 188 pages
 

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Page 110 - A dungeon horrible on all sides round As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames No light; but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
Page 173 - We are not happy, sweet ! our state Is strange and full of doubt and fear ; More need of words that ills abate ; — Reserve or censure come not near Our sacred friendship, lest there be No solace left for thee and me.
Page 42 - And darkens, as the ocean chaos did Beneath the spirit-shadow of her God ! — Again ! again ! the congregated Winds Unroll their voices, — they have roused the Sea, And on her back ten thousand thousand waves, Like wings of wrath, are swelling as they rise...
Page 169 - THE flower that smiles to-day To-morrow dies; All that we wish to stay Tempts and then flies. What is this world's delight? Lightning that mocks the night, Brief even as bright.
Page 45 - Joy lights his brow, and Pleasure rolls his eye, While Innocence, from out the budding lip Darts her young smiles along his rounded cheek. Grief hath not dimm'd the brightness of his form, Love and Affection o'er him spread their wings, And Nature, like a nurse, attends him with Her sweetest looks. The humming bee will bound From out the flower, nor sting his baby hand, The birds sing to him from the sunny tree, And suppliantly the fierce-eyed mastiff fawn Beneath his feet, to court the playful touch.
Page 67 - As gently as delicious sound : not false To present scenes, and yet prepared to die. Beautiful resignation, and the hopes That well from out the fountain of her faith, Have breathed around her a seraphic air Of wither'd loveliness. The gloss of life And worldly dreams are o'er ; but dewy Morn, And dim-eyed Eve, and all the inward gleams Of rapture, darted from regretted joys,— Delight her still: and oft when twilight comes, She'll gaze upon the damask glow of heaven With all the truth of happier...
Page 84 - How pure The grace, the gentleness, of virtuous age ! Though solemn, not austere ; though wisely dead To passion, and the wildering dreams of hope, Not unalive to tenderness and truth, — The good old man is honour'd and revered, And breathes upon the young-limb'd race around A gray and venerable charm of years.
Page 45 - Ligbt as the beam that dances by his side. Phantom of beauty ! with his trepid locks Gleaming like water-wreaths, — a flower of life, To whom the fairy world is fresh, the sky A glory, and the earth one huge delight...
Page 144 - Is there not A mood of glory, when the mind attuned To heaven, can out of dreams create her worlds ?Oh ! none are so absorb'd, as not to feel Sweet thoughts like music coming o'er the mind : When prayer, the purest incense of a soul, Hath risen to the throne of heaven, the heart Is mellow'd, and the shadows that becloud Our state of darken'd being, glide away ; The Heavens are open'd ! and the eye of Faith Looks in, and hath a fearful glimpse of God...
Page 43 - Her requiem, and Whirlwinds howl for joy ! And where are they, who from the breezy deck Beheld the sun in orient glory rise Like a divinity, and breathed a prayer For the fresh promise of a placid sea ? Float they in lifeless masses through the deep ? Look ! — where a lash of lightning stripes the sea, — Like straw upon the wind, a bark is whirl'd From wave to wave ! within, a pale-faced crew Sit dumb as phantoms ; with their eyes bedimm'd, Their locks...

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