How to write a composition

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M.H. Gill and Son, 1885 - 159 sidor
 

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Sida 136 - Unfading HOPE ! when life's last embers burn, When soul to soul, and dust to dust return ! . Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour ! Oh ! then, thy kingdom comes ! Immortal Power...
Sida 142 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Sida 123 - But who the melodies of morn can tell ? — The wild brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide, The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide ; The hum of bees ; the linnet's lay of love ; And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
Sida 30 - Education comprehends all that series of instruction and discipline which is intended to enlighten the understanding, correct the temper, and form the manners and habits of youth, and fit them for usefulness in their future stations ; " — all, in fact, that is necessary to make a man or a woman — a gentleman or a lady.
Sida 13 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
Sida 102 - Or who would ever care to do brave deed, Or strive in virtue others to excel, If none should yield him his deserved meed, Due praise, that is the spur of doing well? For if good were not praised more than ill, None would choose goodness of his own free will.
Sida 84 - There's music in the sighing of a reed ; There's music in the gushing of a rill ; There's music in all things, if men had ears : Their earth is but an echo of the spheres.
Sida 47 - IN Eastern lands they talk in flowers, And they tell in a garland their loves and cares ; Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers, On its leaves a mystic language bears.
Sida 74 - TwAS a lovely thought to mark the hours, As they floated in light away, By the opening and the folding flowers, That laugh to the summer's day.
Sida 74 - Mark'd thus — even thus — on earth, By the closing of one hope's delight, And another's gentle birth ? Oh ! let us live, so that flower by flower, Shutting in turn, may leave A lingerer still for the sunset hour, A charm for the shaded eve.

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