Violet Douglas; Or, The Problems of Life

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Seeley, Jackson, & Halliday, 1868 - 320 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 311 - THE billows swell, the winds are high, Clouds overcast my wintry sky ; Out of the depths to Thee I call, My fears are great, my strength is small. O Lord, the pilot's part perform, And guide and guard me through the storm ; Defend me from each threatening ill, Control the waves, say,
Pàgina 117 - tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Pàgina 1 - When the world's up, and every swarm abroad, Keep well thy temper, mix not with each clay ; Despatch necessities ; life hath a load Which must be carried on, and safely may ; Yet keep those cares without thee ; let the heart , Be God's alone, and choose the better part.
Pàgina 32 - Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt.
Pàgina 78 - Will come when your toil is over, And pay you for all your pain. Wait ; yet I do not tell you The hour you long for now Will not come with its radiance vanished, And a shadow upon its brow ; Yet far...
Pàgina 312 - Amidst the roaring of the sea My soul still hangs her hope on thee ; Thy constant love, thy faithful care, Is all that saves me from despair.
Pàgina 277 - I praise Thee while my days go on. praise Thee while my days go on ; I love Thee while my clays go on : Through dark and dearth, through fire and frost, With emptied arms and treasure lost, I thank Thee while my days go on.
Pàgina 215 - Christ our Lord is ever near Those who follow Him; But we cannot see Him here, For our eyes are dim: There is a most happy place, Where men always see His face.
Pàgina 259 - Curved is the line of Beauty, Straight is the line of Duty ; Walk by the last, and thou wilt see The other ever follow thee.
Pàgina 192 - My lot is fall'n, blest be Thy will ! And since these biting frosts but kill Some tares in me which choke or spill That seed Thou sow'st, bles,t be Thy skill ! Blest be Thy dew, and blest Thy frost, And happy I to be so crost, And cured by crosses at Thy cost.

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