The Pearl of Orr's Island: A Story of the Coast of Maine

Portada
Ticknor and Fields, 1866 - 437 páginas

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Página 15 - Why do we mourn departing friends Or shake at death's alarms? 'tis but the voice that Jesus sends To call them to his arms.
Página 42 - So shall my walk be close with God, Calm and serene my frame; So purer light shall mark the road That leads me to the Lamb.
Página 15 - And she said unto them, Call me not Naomi, call me Mara: for the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me. I went out full, and the Lord hath brought me home again empty...
Página 140 - Dangers stand thick through all the ground, To push us to the tomb ; And fierce diseases wait around, To hurry mortals home.
Página 146 - Full fathom five thy father lies, Of his bones are coral made : Those are pearls that were his eyes, Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea change, Into something rich and strange.
Página 8 - They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their deaths they were not divided," said Aunt Roxy, sententiously.
Página 322 - There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not: The way of an eagle in the air ; the way of a serpent upon a rock ; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea ; and the way of a man with a maid.
Página 88 - LORD, in the morning thou shalt hear My voice ascending high ; To thee will I direct my prayer, To thee lift up mine eye : 2 Up to the hills where Christ is gone To plead for all his saints, Presenting at his Father's throne Our songs and our complaints.
Página 411 - T'HE Lord my shepherd is; *- I shall be well supplied : Since He is mine, and I am His, What can I want beside? 2 He leads me to the place * Where heavenly pasture grows, Where living waters gently pass, And full salvation flows. 3 If e'er I go astray, He doth my soul reclaim ; And guides me in His own right way, For His most holy name. 4 While He affords His aid, I cannot yield to fear...
Página 146 - Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands; Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd (The wild waves whist) Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Hark, hark! Burthen. Bowgh, wowgh. (dispersedly) The watch-dogs bark: Bur. Bowgh, wowgh. Hark, hark ! I hear The strain of strutting chanticlere Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo. Fer. Where should this music be ? i' the air, or the earth ? It sounds no more ;—and sure it waits upon Some god of the island.

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