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aboot afoore ageean alang Apostolical Succession beean beeath believed our report bleead bless blood breath burning lake Christ dark death deea delight divine doon dost doth dreead earth EDOM faithful finnd flowers fooaks Fryup glory God's grace happy hast hear heard heart heav'nly heaven heeard hell holy ivver Jesus joys King knaw lahtle Lealholm leeak live Lord mack mare mighty monny neea night nowght o'er once ower poor pray reeght repent sarten seea seeam seem'd shine sike sing sinners song soon soul Steeple Chase stone sweet t'awd taame tears thee theer ther Ther's thine things Thof thoo thooase thou thought thruff thunders roll thyself truth Twas Twill varry Victory voice weep Whahl whea Whoor yance
Page 43 - Awake, my soul, and with the sun Thy daily stage of duty run; Shake off dull sloth, and early rise To pay thy morning sacrifice.
Page 45 - Hall; Yet whether such a place there be Or not, is all unknown to me. There in a cellar dark and deep, Where slimy creatures nightly creep And human footsteps never tread, There is a store of treasure hid. If it be so, I have no doubt Some lucky wight will find it out. Yet so or not t'is nought to me For I shall ne'er go there to see." The man did slyly twice or thrice The Cockney thenk for his advice; Then heame agean withoot delay He cherfully did take his way An
Page 150 - There is a generation that are pure in their own eyes, and yet is not washed from their filthiness.
Page 152 - ... of the manifestations of force, ever been the obedient servants of law, instead of being its originators ? Is it not too plain to admit of argument that Infinite Mind lies back of all manifested nature and controls all ? The special pertinence of this will be apparent when we come to consider man. GOD "The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God.
Page 25 - ADVICE. OFT hev Ah lang'd yon hill te dim, Te hev a bit mare prooase wi' him, Wheas coonsel like a pleeasin dreeam, Is deear te me ; Sin' roond the warld sike men as he Seea few ther be. Corrupted bukes he did detest, For his wur ov the varry best; This meead him wiser than the rest O' t' neeaburs roond, Tho' poor i' t' purse, wi' senses blest, An'judgment soond.
Page 26 - ... Mouse") — difficult, but admirably fitted to the subject. Inevitably, however, the dialect gives way too often to the requirements of the verse or of the thought. The result is a hotch-potch, half dialect, half literary English; with some good stanzas. This one is on the poet's tombstone at Pickering. "Bud noo his een's geean dim i' deeath, Neea mare a pilgrim here on earth, His sowl flits fra' her shell beneeath, Ti reealms o' day, Wheer carpin care, an pain, an