The broken font, by the author of 'Tales of the wars of our times'. |
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The Broken Font, by the Author of 'Tales of the Wars of Our Times'. Joseph Moyle Sherer Podgląd niedostępny - 2012 |
The Broken Font, by the Author of 'Tales of the Wars of Our Times' Joseph Moyle Sherer Podgląd niedostępny - 2019 |
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arms Arthur Axbridge blessed Blount bosom chamber CHAP Cheddar cheek church commission of array countenance cousin Cuth Cuthbert Noble Daws dear duty eyes faith father fear feeling felt Francis Heywood gave gentle George Juxon grave hand happy hath head heard heart heaven hope horse hour innocent songs Jane Lambert Katharine Heywood King King's lady look Lord Margery Martin Martin Noble Master Cuthbert Master Juxon May-pole Mendip Hill ment Milverton mind minister Mistress Alice Mistress Katharine morning musketeers never night Oliver Heywood Parliament party passed peace person Peter pikemen poor prayer Puritan racter Roundheads seat silent Sir Charles Lambert Sir Oliver soldier solemn soon sorrow spirit stood strange suffer sweet sword tears tell thee thing thought tone took train bands trouble true turned uttered village voice walked Warwickshire words young youth
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 34 - AND is there care in heaven ? and is there love In heavenly spirits to these creatures base, That may compassion of their evils move ? There is...
Strona 295 - With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced quire below, In service high and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.
Strona 281 - He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know At first sight if the bird be flown; But what fair well or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown.
Strona 135 - It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he cast into the sea, than that he should offend one of these little ones.
Strona 150 - He neither shall be born In housen nor in hall, Nor in the place of Paradise, But in an ox's stall. ' He neither shall be clothed In purple nor in pall, But all in fair linen As wear babies all. ' He neither shall be rocked In silver nor in gold, But in a wooden cradle That rocks on the mould, ' He neither shall be christened In white wine nor red, But with fair spring water With which we were christened.
Strona 197 - But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.
Strona 203 - Even as a nurse whose child's imperfect pace Can hardly lead his foot from place to place, Leaves her fond kissing, sets him down to go, Nor does uphold him for a step or two : But when she finds that he begins to fall, She holds him up, and kisses him withal ; — So God from man sometimes withdraws his hand Awhile, to teach his infant faith to stand, But when he sees his feeble strength begin To fail, he gently takes him up again.
Strona 172 - The moon shines bright, and the stars give a light, A little before it is day; So God bless you all, both great and small, And send you a joyful May ! THE HELSTONE FURRY-DAY SONG.
Strona 51 - Tut, tut ! good enough to toss'; food for powder, food for powder ; they'll fill a pit, as well as better : tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.
Strona 34 - With His heavenly dew so sweet. The heavenly gates are open wide, Our paths are beaten plain, And if a man be not too far gone, He may return again. The life of man is but a span, It flourishes like a flower, We are here to-day and gone to-morrow, And we are dead in an hour.