Pleasant pages (by S.P. Newcombe). [With suppl., entitled] Fireside facts from the Great exhibition, Volum 6

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PÓgina 17 - Hark ! hark ! to God the chorus breaks, From every host, from every gem ; But one alone the Saviour speaks, It is the star of Bethlehem.
PÓgina 17 - It was my guide, my light, my all, it bade my dark forebodings cease ; and through the storm and danger's thrall it led me to the port of peace. Now safely moored — my perils o'er, I'll sing, first in night's diadem, for ever and for evermore, the Star— The Star of Bethlehem...
PÓgina 231 - And tolls its perfume on the passing air, Makes sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer. Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, But to that fane, most catholic and solemn, Which God hath planned ; To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply ; Its choir the winds and waves — its organ thunder — Its dome the sky.
PÓgina 152 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death...
PÓgina 134 - Tis filled wherever thou dost tread, Nature's self's thy Ganymede. Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing, Happier than the happiest king. All the fields which thou dost see, All the plants, belong to thee ; All that summer hours produce, Fertile made with early juice; Man for thee does sow and plow...
PÓgina 113 - Mary had a little lamb, Its fleece was white as snow, And everywhere that Mary went The lamb was sure to go; He followed her to school one day — That was against the rule. It made the children laugh and play To see a lamb at school.
PÓgina 231 - Your voiceless lips, O flowers, are living preachers, Each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book, Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers From loneliest nook. Floral apostles, that, in dewy splendor, " Weep without woe, and blush without a crime," O, may I deeply learn, and ne'er surrender, Your lore sublime.
PÓgina 59 - Wild is thy lay, and loud, Far in the downy cloud — Love gives it energy ; love gave it birth. Where, on thy dewy wing, Where art thou journeying ? Thy lay is in heaven ; thy love is on earth. O'er fell and fountain sheen, O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds...
PÓgina 113 - What makes the lamb love Mary so?" The eager children cry. "Oh, Mary loves the lamb, you know...
PÓgina 152 - Death. Day is for mortal care ; Eve, for glad meetings round the joyous hearth ; Night, for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer ,— But all for thee, thou Mightiest of the earth.

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