The Church Quarterly Review, Volume 20

Front Cover
Arthur Cayley Headlam
Spottiswoode, 1885 - English periodicals

From inside the book

What people are saying - Write a review

We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.

Other editions - View all

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 120 - Ye see the distress that we are in, how Jerusalem lieth waste, and the gates thereof are burned with fire: come, and let us build up the wall of Jerusalem, that we be no more a reproach.
Page 75 - Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.
Page 120 - Then answered I them, and said unto them, "The God of heaven, he will prosper us; therefore we his servants will arise and build : but ye have no portion, nor right, nor memorial, in Jerusalem.
Page 120 - And I arose in the night, I and some few men with me ; neither told I any man what my God had put in my heart to do at Jerusalem : neither was there any beast with me, save the beast that I rode upon.
Page 191 - So the Father is God, the Son is God : and the Holy Ghost is God. And yet they are not three Gods : but one God.
Page 447 - The potent traditions of childhood are stereotyped in its verses. The power of all the griefs and trials of a man is hidden beneath its words. It is the representative of his best moments, and all that there has been about him of soft and gentle and pure and penitent and good speaks to him forever out of his English Bible.
Page 17 - I am drawing near to the close of my career ; I am fast shuffling off the stage. I have been perhaps the most voluminous author of the day ; and it is a comfort to me to think that I have tried to unsettle no man's faith, to corrupt no man's principle, and that I have written nothing which on my deathbed I should wish blotted.
Page 5 - Like a sick child that knoweth not his mother while she blesses And drops upon his burning brow the coolness of her kisses, — That turns his fevered eyes around — ' My mother ! where's my mother...
Page 447 - It lives on the ear, like a music that can never be forgotten, like the sound of church bells, which the convert hardly knows how he can forego. Its felicities often seem to be almost things rather than mere words. It is part of the national mind, and the anchor of national seriousness The memory of the dead passes into it.
Page 447 - The memory of the dead passes into it. The potent traditions of childhood are stereotyped in its verses. The power of all the griefs and trials of a man is hidden beneath its words.

Bibliographic information