The Nineteenth Century, Volume 9

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Henry S. King & Company, 1881 - Nineteenth century
 

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Page 103 - Faintly as tolls the evening chime Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Page 764 - When the Priest, standing before the table, hath so ordered the bread and wine, that he may with the more readiness and decency break the bread before the people, and take the cup into his hands...
Page 646 - But if he be found, he shall restore sevenfold; he shall give all the substance of his house.
Page 709 - Out of every corner of the woods and glens they came creeping forth upon their hands, for their legs could not bear them; they looked like anatomies of death ; they spake like ghosts crying out of their graves...
Page 764 - THE blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was shed for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life!
Page 645 - And Manoah arose, and went after his wife, and came to the man, and said unto him, Art thou the man that spakest unto the woman ? And he said, I am. And Manoah said, Now let thy words come to pass. How shall we order the child, and how shall we do unto him...
Page 709 - But I am not in the least pain upon that matter, because it is very well known, that they are every day dying, and rotting, by cold, and famine, and filth, and vermin, as fast as can be reasonably expected.
Page 784 - Yet these commonplace people — many of them — bear a conscience, and have felt the sublime prompting to do the painful right ; they have their unspoken sorrows, and their sacred joys; their hearts have perhaps gone out towards their first-born, and they have mourned over the irreclaimable dead. Nay, is there not a pathos in their very insignificance,- — in our comparison of their dim and narrow existence with the glorious possibilities of that human nature which they share...
Page 810 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd Even such a beauty as you master now.
Page 709 - ... after, insomuch as the very carcasses they spared not to scrape out of their graves ; and if they found a plot of watercresses or shamrocks, there they flocked as to a feast for the time, yet not able long to continue there withal; that in short space there were none almost left, and a most populous and plentiful country suddenly left void of man and beast...

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