Agnes of Sorrento

Front Cover
Ticknor and Fields, 1865 - 412 pages
 

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Page 234 - The disciple is not above his master, nor the servant above his Lord. It is enough for the disciple that he be as his master, and the servant as his Lord...
Page 410 - The glorious company of the Apostles, The goodly fellowship of the Prophets, The noble army of Martyrs praise thee.
Page 152 - Hope of every contrite heart ! O Joy of all the meek ! To those who fall, how kind thou art ! How good to those who seek...
Page 333 - Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; Nor for the arrow that flieth by day; Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; Nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.
Page 296 - Why do the heathen rage, And the people imagine a vain thing? The kings of the earth set themselves, And the rulers take counsel together, Against the Lord, and against his anointed, saying, Let us break their bonds asunder, And cast away their cords from us.
Page 177 - Why hast thou then broken down her hedges, So that all they which pass by the way do pluck her? The boar out of the wood doth waste it, And the wild beast of the field doth devour it. Return, we beseech thee, O God of hosts: Look down from heaven, and behold, and visit this vine; And the vineyard which thy right hand hath planted, And the branch that thou madest strong for thyself.
Page 357 - Fair are the meadows, Fairer still the woodlands, Robed in the blooming garb of spring; Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer, Who makes the woeful heart to sing. Fair is the sunshine, Fairer still the moonlight, And all the twinkling starry host. Jesus shines brighter, Jesus shines purer Than all the angels heaven can boast.
Page 307 - These are they who have come out of great tribulation, having washed their robes and made them white in the blood of .the Lamb.
Page 121 - Behold, these are the ungodly, Who prosper in the world; they increase in riches. Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, And washed my hands in innocency.
Page 357 - Thou, my soul's glory, joy and crown! Fair are the meadows; Fairer still the woodlands, Robed in the blooming garb of spring. Jesus is fairer, Jesus is Purer, Who makes the woeful heart to sing!

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