Brownson's Quarterly Review, Volume 4

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Orestes Augustus Brownson
Benjamin H. Greene, 1850 - American essays
 

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Page 102 - Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee, and deify his power, Who from the terror of this arm so late Doubted his empire, — that were low indeed ! That were an ignominy...
Page 100 - Seek ye therefore first the Kingdom of God and His justice, and all these things shall be added unto you.
Page 445 - I have loved justice, and hated iniquity: therefore I die in exile...
Page 432 - If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me,
Page 447 - And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient, being filled with all unrighteousness...
Page 509 - ... territory or dominions of any foreign prince or state, or of any colony, district, or people with whom the United States are at peace, shall be deemed guilty of a high misdemeanor, and shall be fined not exceeding three thousand dollars, and imprisoned not more than three years.
Page 70 - and died away into silence. Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home of his childhood ; Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among them, Village, and mountain, and woodlands ; and, walking under their shadow, As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his vision. Tears came into his eyes ; and as slowly he lifted his eyelids, Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt by his bedside. Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents unuttered Died on his lips, and their motion...
Page 70 - Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking. Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied reverberations, Heard he that cry of pain, and through the hush that succeeded Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and saint-like, '• Gabriel ! O my beloved !
Page 61 - Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers. Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the wayside, Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown shade of her tresses I Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine that feed in the meadows.
Page 70 - All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow, All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing, All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience! And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom, Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, "Father, I thank thee!

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