The Sonning parish magazine

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Page 27 - Can I see another's woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, And not seek for kind relief? Can I see a falling tear, And not feel my sorrow's share? Can a father see his child Weep, nor be with sorrow fill'd? Can a mother sit and hear An infant groan, an infant fear? No, no! never can it be!
Page 27 - Looking tranquillity! It strikes an awe And terror on my aching sight; the tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart.
Page 27 - How oft do they their silver bowers leave To come to succour us, that succour want ? How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant Against foul fiends, to aid us militant? They for us fight, they watch and duly ward, And their bright squadrons round about us plant, And all for love and nothing for reward, O why should heavenly God to men have such regard *." This agrees with what is recorded of St.
Page 27 - No, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be! And can he who smiles on all Hear the wren with sorrows small, Hear the small bird's grief...
Page 85 - He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again...
Page 27 - But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloister's pale, And love the high embowed roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light.
Page 66 - Could the England of 1685 be, by some magical process, set before our eyes, we should not know one landscape in a hundred or one building in ten thousand.
Page 27 - O the exceeding grace Of highest God that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed Angels he sends to and fro To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe. How oft do they their silver bowers leave, To come to succour us that succour want ; How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies like flying pursuivant, Against foul friends to aid us militant.
Page 27 - How oft do they their silver bowers leave, To come to succour us that succour want ! How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies like flying pursuivant, Against foul fiends to aid us militant ! They for us fight ; they watch and duly ward, And their bright squadrons round about us plant ; And all for love and nothing for reward : Oh why should heavenly God to men have such regard) THE SEASONS.

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