Euthanasy, Or Happy Talk Towards the End of Life

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Crosby, Nichols, 1858 - 511 páginas
 

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Página 30 - You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attain'd his noon. Stay, stay Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray'd together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring ; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing.
Página 402 - Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an eestasy!
Página 327 - Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?
Página 161 - And he that shuts Love out, in turn shall be Shut out from Love, and on her threshold lie Howling in outer darkness. Not for this Was common clay ta'en from the common earth, Moulded by God, and temper'd with the tears Of angels to the perfect shape of man.
Página 289 - And being but one. she can do all things: and remaining in herself, she maketh all things new: and in all ages entering into holy souls, she maketh them friends of God , and prophets, For God loveth none but him that dwelleth with wisdom.
Página 262 - O'er the drowned hills, the human family, And stock reserved of every living kind ; So, in the compass of the single mind, The seeds and pregnant forms in essence lie That make all worlds.
Página 46 - Sleep is a death, O make me try, By sleeping, what it is to die; And as gently lay my head On my grave, as now my bed.
Página 401 - Courts, I would rejoice ; Or, with my Bryan and a book, Loiter long days near Shawford brook ; There sit by him, and eat my meat ; There see the sun both rise and set ; There bid good morning to next day ; There meditate my time away ; And angle on, and beg to have A quiet passage to a welcome grave.
Página 461 - Thou, who hast given me eyes to see And love this sight so fair, Give me a heart to find out Thee And read Thee everywhere.
Página 435 - Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground ; Another race the following spring supplies, They fall successive, and successive rise: So generations in their course decay, So flourish these, when those are past away.

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