Horae Subsecivae

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Edmonston and Douglas, 1882 - Medicine

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Page 79 - But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and there shall no torment touch them. In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die: and their departure is taken for misery. And their going from us to be utter destruction: but they are in peace.
Page 296 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Page 235 - They set as sets the morning star, which goes Not down behind the darkened west, nor hides Obscured among the tempests of the sky, But melts away into the light of heaven.
Page 281 - among them that wrought the work * of the tabernacle made ten curtains of fine twined linen, and blue, and purple, and scarlet : with cherubims of cunning work made he them.
Page 297 - Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling : for it is God that worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure.
Page 249 - For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed ; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee.
Page 296 - Stormy wind fulfilling his word : Mountains, and all hills ; Fruitful trees, and all cedars : Beasts, and all cattle ; Creeping things, and flying fowl : Kings of the earth, and all people ; Princes, and all judges of the earth : Both young men, and maidens ; Old men, and children : Let them praise the name of the Lord : For his name alone is excellent ; His glory is above the earth and heaven.
Page 245 - The sun upon the Weirdlaw Hill, In Ettrick's vale, is sinking sweet ; The westland wind is hush and still — The lake lies sleeping at my feet. Yet not the landscape to mine eye Bears those bright hues that once it bore : Though evening, with her richest dye, Flames o'er the hills of Ettrick's shore. ' With listless look along the plain I see Tweed's silver current glide, And coldly mark the holy fane Of Melrose rise in ruin'd pride.
Page 194 - The race not always to the swift. The strong may yield, the good may fall, The great man be a vulgar clown, The knave be lifted over all, The kind cast pitilessly down.
Page 317 - Like some coy maid half yielding to her lover, It pours such sweet upbraiding, as must needs Tempt to repeat the wrong ' And now, the strings Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes Over delicious surges sink and rise, Such a soft floating witchery of sound...

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