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Passatges populars

Pāgina 67 - I take my walks abroad, How many poor I see : What shall I render to my God, For all his gifts to me ? Not more than others I deserve, Yet God hath given me more ; For I have food while others starve, Or beg from door to door. How many children in the street Half naked I behold, While I am clothed from head to feet, And covered from the cold.
Pāgina 54 - How skilfully she builds her cell! How neat she spreads the wax ! And labours hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labour or of skill I would be busy too: For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play Let my first years be past, That I may give for every day Some good account at last.
Pāgina 55 - Cow. THANK you, pretty cow, that made Pleasant milk to soak my bread, Every day, and every night, Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white. Do not chew the hemlock rank, Growing on the weedy bank ; But the yellow cowslips eat, They will make it very sweet. Where the purple violet grows, Where the bubbling water flows, Where the grass is fresh and fine, Pretty cow, go there and dine.
Pāgina 84 - Wilt thou not crown at length The work thou hast begun ? And, with a will, afford me strength In all thy ways to run.
Pāgina 305 - While I am a pilgrim here, Let Thy love my spirit cheer; As my Guide, my Guard, my Friend, Lead me to my journey's end...
Pāgina 67 - While some poor wretches scarce can tell Where they may lay their head : I have a home wherein to dwell, And rest upon my bed. While others early learn to swear, And curse and lye, and steal ; Lord, I am taught thy name to fear. And do thy holy will. Are these thy favours, day by day To me above the rest ? Then let me love thee more than they, And try to serve thee best.
Pāgina 115 - Doth not each rain-drop help to form The cool, refreshing shower, And every ray of light to warm And beautify the flower...
Pāgina 54 - HOW doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower ! 2 How skilfully she builds her cell ! How neat she spreads the wax ! And labours hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes.
Pāgina 84 - I would, but cannot rest In God's most holy will ; I know what He appoints is best, Yet murmur at it still. 6 O could I but believe ! Then all would easy be ; I would, but cannot — Lord, relieve ; My help must come from Thee...
Pāgina 466 - WHEN all thy mercies, O my God ! My rising soul surveys, Transported with the view, I'm lost In wonder, love, and praise. 2 O how shall words, with equal warmth, The gratitude declare, That glows in my enraptured heart ! But thou canst read it there.

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