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angel arms asked beautiful better birds blessed bright brother brought called carried child close coming dark dear death door dress eyes face father fear feel flowers friends garden gave gentle girl give GRACE grew half hand happy head hear heard heart hope hour kind king knew Lady land laugh leaves light little girl LITTLE PILGRIM lived looked Lord mamma Mary morning mother never night noble once passed Plant play pleasant poor pretty Queen remember rest round seemed seen sent side sister smile soon stand stood story sure sweet tears tell thee things thou thought told took trees turned voice walk wish wonderful woods WRITTEN young
Page 4 - All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, because the Spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it: surely the people is grass. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth; but the word of our God shall stand for ever.
Page 19 - With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace; From my heart I give thee joy,— I was once a barefoot boy!
Page 19 - Laughed the brook for my delight Through the day and through the night, Whispering at the garden wall, Talked with me from fall to fall; Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond, Mine the walnut slopes beyond, Mine, on bending orchard trees, Apples of Hesperides!
Page 20 - Waited on the barefoot boy ! Cheerily, then, my little man, Live and laugh, as boyhood can ! Though the flinty slopes be hard, Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, Every morn shall lead thee through Fresh baptisms of the dew ; Every evening...
Page 19 - Knowledge never learned of schools, Of the wild bee's morning chase, Of the wild flower's time and place, Flight of fowl and habitude Of the tenants of the wood; How the tortoise bears his shell, How the woodchuck digs his cell, And the ground-mole sinks his well; How the robin feeds her young, How the oriole's nest is hung...
Page 33 - ... forgive my persecutors and false accusers, and send us to meet in his glorious kingdom. My dear wife, farewell ! Bless my poor boy, pray for me, and let my good God hold you both in his arms.
Page 19 - I was rich in flowers and trees, Humming-birds and honey-bees; For my sport the squirrel played, Plied the snouted mole his spade; For my taste the blackberry cone Purpled over hedge and stone; Laughed the brook for my delight Through the day and through the night, Whispering at the garden wall, Talked with me from fall to fall; Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond, Mine the walnut slopes beyond, Mine, on bending orchard trees, Apples of Hesperides!
Page 33 - First, I send you all the thanks which my heart can conceive, or my words express, for your many travails and cares for me ; which, though they have not taken effect as you wished, yet my debt to you is not the less ; but pay it I never shall in this world.
Page 8 - Then Peter said, Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk.
Page 19 - Oh for boyhood's time of June, Crowding years in one brief moon, When all things I heard or saw, Me, their master, waited for. I was rich in flowers and trees, Humming-birds and honey-bees; For my sport the squirrel played, Plied the snouted mole his spade...