The Life of William Cowper, Esq, Volume 1

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Otis, Broaders,, 1839
 

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Page 173 - there is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety and nine just persons that need no repentance.
Page 114 - The calm retreat, the silent shade, With prayer and praise agree, And seem by thy sweet bounty made, For those who follow thee. 3 There if thy Spirit touch the soul, And grace her mean abode, Oh ! with what peace, and joy, and love, She communes with her God. 4 There, like the nightingale, she pours Her solitary lays, Nor asks a witness of her song, Nor thirsts for human praise.
Page 4 - Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ? Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss ; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — Ah, that maternal smile ! it answers — Yes.
Page 183 - Return, O holy Dove, return, Sweet messenger of rest ! I hate the sins that made thee mourn, And drove thee from my breast.
Page 116 - Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.
Page 113 - FAR from the world, O Lord, I flee, From strife and tumult far ; From scenes where Satan wages still His most successful war. 2 The calm retreat, the silent shade, With prayer and praise agree, And seem by thy sweet bounty made, For those who follow thee.
Page 12 - Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, We love the play-place of our early days. The scene is touching, and the heart is stone That feels not at that sight, and feels at none. The wall on which we tried our graving skill, The very name we carved subsisting still ; The bench on which we sat while deep employed, Though mangled, hacked, and hewed, not yet destroyed...
Page 105 - Hatred and vengeance — my eternal portion, Scarce can endure delay of execution — Wait with impatient readiness to seize my Soul in a moment. Damned below Judas, more abhorred than he was, Who for a few pence sold his holy Master ! Twice betrayed, Jesus me, the last delinquent, Deems the profanest.
Page 194 - I once thought Swift's Letters the best that could be written ; but I like Gray's better. His humour, or his wit, or whatever it is to be called, is never ill-natured or offensive, and yet, I think, equally poignant with the Dean's.
Page 4 - I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! But was it such ? It was.

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