Modern Christian heroes, a gallery of protesting and reforming men

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E. Stock, 1869 - 312 pages
 

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OCLC: 14216526
Related Subjects: Cromwell, Oliver, -- 1599-1658. | Milton, John, -- 1608-1674. | Puritans -- England.
Covenanters. |Scotland -- Church history -- 18th century. |Methodists -- England -- Biography. |Liberty of conscience.
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Page 233 - Lord, save us, we perish. And he saith unto them, Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith? Then he arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. But the men marvelled, saying, What manner of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?
Page 94 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Page 69 - No war or battle's sound Was heard the world around; The idle spear and shield were high uphung; The hooked chariot stood, Unstained with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
Page 267 - I happened soon after to attend one of his sermons, in the course of which, I perceived he intended to finish with a collection, and I silently resolved he should get nothing from me: I had in my pocket a handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold; as he proceeded I began to soften, and concluded to give the copper.
Page 61 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny ; You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face, You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve : Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
Page 255 - I'LL praise my Maker with my breath ; And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall employ my nobler powers : My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last, Or immortality endures.
Page 126 - Whose humorous vein; strong sense, and simple style, May teach the .gayest, make the gravest smile...
Page 207 - The horsemen dashed among the rout, As deer break through the broom; Their steeds are stout, their swords are out, They soon make lightsome room. Clan Alpine's best are backward borne— Where, where was Roderick then ! One blast upon his bugle-horn Were worth a thousand men. And refluent through the pass of fear The battle's tide was poured ; Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear, Vanished the mountain-sword.
Page 166 - There was the Bluidy Advocate MacKenyie, who, for his worldly wit and wisdom, had been to the rest as a god. And there was Claverhouse, as beautiful as when he lived, with his long, dark, curled locks, streaming down over his laced buff-coat, and his left hand always on his right spule-blade, to hide the wound that the silver bullet had made.
Page 282 - Or shall we, with a far truer philosophy of the human soul, infer, in the language of St. Peter, that we have been laying on him "a yoke which neither we nor our fathers were able to bear?

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