Reminiscences of Charles Durand of Toronto, Barrister

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Hunter, Rose, 1897 - 663 páginas
 

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Página 214 - For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher ranks than a' that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that — That sense and worth o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a' that, and a' that, It's coming yet, for a
Página 111 - THERE is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign ; Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain. 2 There everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers ; Death, like a narrow sea, divides This heavenly land from ours.
Página 111 - Could we but climb where Moses stood, And view the landscape o'er, Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood, Should fright us from the shore.
Página 465 - ... soul. Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name, The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye, Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same ? Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home, The wisdom that I learned so ill in this — The wisdom which is love — till I become Thy fit companion in that land of bliss ? THE DEATH OF SCHILLER.
Página 416 - People and realms of every tongue Dwell on his love with sweetest song; And infant voices shall proclaim Their early blessings on his name. 4 Blessings abound where'er he reigns, The prisoner leaps to lose his chains ; The weary find eternal rest, And all the sons of want are blest.
Página 416 - JESUS shall reign where'er the sun Does his successive journeys run ; His kingdom stretch from shore to shore, Till moons shall wax and wane no more.
Página 422 - And of the angels he saith ; Who maketh his angels spirits, and his ministers a flame of fire.
Página 465 - The love that lived through all the stormy past, And meekly with my harsher nature bore, And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last, Shall it expire with life, and be no more...
Página 493 - Is there for honest Poverty That hangs his head, and a' that ? The coward slave ! we pass him by : We dare be poor for a
Página 464 - When all of thee that time could wither sleeps And perishes among the dust we tread ! For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain If there I meet thy gentle presence not ; Nor hear the voice I love, nor read again In thy serenest eyes the tender thought. Will not...

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