THE MOST EXTENSIVE
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A charmed life old goodness hath; the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.
A Christian! Going, gone!
Who bids for God's own image?--for His grace,
Which that poor victim of the marketplace
Hath in her suffering won?
A faint blush melting through the light of thy transparent cheek like a rose-leaf bathed in dew.
A felon's cell--
The fittest earthly type of hell!
A loving heart carries with it, under every parallel of latitude, the warmth and light of the tropics. It plants its Eden in the wilderness and solitary place, and sows with flowers the gray desolation of rock and mosses.
A true life is at once interpreter and proof of the gospel.
All day the darkness and the cold
Upon my heart have lain,
Like shadows on the winter sky,
Like frost upon the pane.
All which is real now remaineth,
And fadeth never:
The hand which upholds it now sustaineth
The soul forever.
An inborn grace that nothing lacked
Of culture or appliance--
The warmth of genial courtesy,
The calm of self-reliance.
And Autumn in his leafless bowers is waiting for the winter's snow.
And lo! the fullness of the time has come,
And over all the exile's western home,
From sea to sea the flowers of freedom bloom!
As pure and sweet, her fair brow seemed
Eternal as the sky:
And like the brook's low song, her voice,--
A sound which could not die.
As thus into the quiet night the twilight lapsed away.
Autumn's earliest frost had given
To the woods below
Hues of beauty, such as heaven
Lendeth to its bow;
And the soft breeze from the west
Scarcely broke their dreamy rest.
Autumn, in his leafless bowers, is waiting for the winter's snow.
Beautiful to Ledyard, stiffening in the cold of a northern winter, seemed the diminutive, smoke-stained women of Lapland, who wrapped him in their furs, and ministered to his necessities with kindness and gentle words.
Beneath the winter's snow lie germs of summer flowers.
By his life alone,
Gracious and sweet, the better way was shown.
Deeds alone suffice.
Despair is infidelity and death.
Earnest toil and strong endeavour
Of a spirit which within
Wrestles with familiar evil
And besetting sin.
Falsehoods which we spurn today, were the truths of long ago.
Few have borne unconsciously the spell of loveliness.
Freedom's soil hath only place
For a free and fearless race!
God blesses still the generous thought
And still the fitting word He speeds,
And truth, at His requiring taught,
He quickens into deeds.
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