Good Housekeeping Magazine, Volym 2

Framsida
Hearst Corporation, 1886

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Sida 239 - LEAD, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on; The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene: one step enough for me. I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou Shouldst lead me on ; I loved to choose and see my path, but now Lead Thou me on.
Sida 239 - I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou Shouldst lead me on; I loved to choose and see my path; but now Lead thou me on. I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.
Sida 165 - HE that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune ; for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief. Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit for the public, have proceeded from the unmarried or childless men ; which both in affection and means have married and endowed the public.
Sida 239 - tis a fast, to dole Thy sheaf of wheat And meat Unto the hungry soul. It is to fast from strife, From old debate And hate To circumcise thy life. To show a heart grief-rent ; To starve thy sin, Not bin ; And that's to keep thy Lent.
Sida 83 - Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found The warmest welcome at an inn.
Sida 117 - Blessing she is: God made her so, And deeds of week-day holiness Fall from her noiseless as the snow, Nor hath she ever chanced to know That aught were easier than to bless.
Sida 134 - Are there no foes for me to face ? Must I not stem the flood ? Is this vile world a friend to grace, To help me on to God...
Sida 124 - Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire, called conscience.
Sida 112 - And I sit and think when the sunset's gold Is flushing river and hill and shore, I shall one day stand by the water cold And list for the sound of the boatman's oar...
Sida 112 - But their voices are drowned in the rushing tide. There's one with ringlets of sunny gold, And eyes, the reflection of heaven's own blue , He crossed in the twilight, gray and cold, And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. We saw not the angels that met him there, The gates of the city we could not see ; Over the river, over the river, My brother stands waiting to welcome me.

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