Miscellanies, Volume 1

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Griffith & Rowland Press, 1912

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Contents

VIII
210
IX
220
X
239
XI
251

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Page 468 - Christ, who, though he was rich, yet for our sakes, became poor, that we through his poverty might be made rich...
Page 98 - For they got not the land in possession by their own sword, neither did their own arm save them : but thy right hand, and thine arm, and the light of thy countenance, because thou hadst a favour unto them.
Page 300 - Come unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.
Page 483 - Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.
Page 186 - It is true, that a little philosophy inclineth man's mind to atheism ; but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion : for while the mind of man looketh upon second causes scattered, it may sometimes rest in them, and go no farther; but when it beholdeth the chain of them confederate and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and Deity.
Page 211 - All authority hath been given unto me in heaven and on earth. Go ye therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I commanded you: and lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.
Page 483 - In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Page 237 - Thus might I hide my blushing face, While his dear cross appears ; Dissolve" my heart in thankfulness, And melt mine eyes to tears. 5 But drops of grief can ne'er repay The debt of love I owe ; Here, Lord, I give myself away, 'Tis all that I can do.
Page 112 - Glorious things of thee are spoken, Zion, city of our God; he whose word cannot be broken formed thee for his own abode. On the Rock of ages founded, what can shake thy sure repose? With salvation's walls surrounded, thou may'st smile at all thy foes.
Page 435 - AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold ; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones...

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