The history of Mary Grove

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Page 56 - New mercies, each returning day, Hover around us while we pray; New perils past, new sins forgiven, New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven.
Page 131 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted ! Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.
Page 52 - We need not bid, for cloister'd cell, Our neighbour and our work farewell, Nor strive to wind ourselves too high For sinful man beneath the sky: The trivial round, the common task, Would furnish all we ought to ask; Room to deny ourselves; a road To bring us, daily, nearer God.
Page 170 - Thou believest that there is one God ; thou doest well: the devils also believe, and tremble.
Page 131 - Amid these earthly damps, What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers, May be heaven's distant lamps. There is no death ! What seems so is transition ; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian Whose portal we call death.
Page 43 - Oh say not, dream not, heavenly notes To childish ears are vain, That the young mind at random floats, And cannot reach the strain. Dim or unheard, the words may fall, And yet the heaven-taught mind May learn the sacred air, and all The harmony unwind.
Page 77 - Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls : Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing ; "Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.
Page 56 - Only, O Lord, in thy dear love Fit us for perfect rest above ; And help us this, and every day, To live more nearly as we pray.
Page 99 - A silver stream shall roll his waters near, Gilt with the sunbeams here and there, On whose enamelled bank I'll walk, And see how prettily they smile, and hear How prettily they talk.
Page 91 - Were we as rich in charity of deed As gold — what rock would bloom not with the seed? We give our alms, and cry — "What can we more?" One hour of time were worth a load of ore ! Give to the ignorant our own wisdom! — give Sorrow our comfort! — lend to those who live In crime, the counsels of our virtue! — share With souls our souls, and Satan shall despair! Alas, what converts one man, who would take The cross and staff, and house with Guilt, could make!

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