The English Reader; Or, Pieces in Prose and Verse, from the Best Writers: Designed to Assist Young Persons to Read with Propriety and Effect; Improve Their Language and Sentiments; and to Inculcate the Most Important Principles of Piety and Virtue. : With a Few Preliminary Observations on the Principles of Good Reading

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B. Olds, 1842 - 252 pages
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Page 218 - On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
Page 230 - Lo, the poor Indian ! whose untutor'd mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind; His soul, proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk, or milky way...
Page 229 - Hope humbly then ; with trembling pinions soar, Wait the great teacher, Death ; and God adore. What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast : Man never Is, but always to be blest ; The soul, uneasy, and confined from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Page 230 - Pride, our error lies; All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies. Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes, Men would be Angels, Angels would be Gods. Aspiring to be Gods, if Angels fell, Aspiring to be Angels, Men rebel: And who but wishes to invert the laws Of Order, sins against th
Page 178 - The sound must seem an echo to the sense : Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar : When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow ; Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.
Page 23 - A soft answer turneth away wrath : but grievous words stir up anger.
Page 99 - Now therefore when I come to thy servant my father, and the lad be not with us; seeing that his life is bound up in the lad's life...
Page 230 - Where slaves once more their native land behold, No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. To be, contents his natural desire, He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire ; But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company.
Page 216 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.
Page 219 - His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye Pines, With every plant in sign of worship wave. Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Join voices, all ye living Souls ; ye Birds, That singing up to Heaven's gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.

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