ISBN: 9780217829632

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not … Plus…

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1913 edition. Excerpt: ... Dear Lententide, that like a quiet way Leads from life''s noisy thoroughfare apart, Thy shadowed silence falls upon the day And stills the restless beating of the heart. We pass within thy sacred shade and lo! Yielding our spirit to thine influence sweet, Upon the path before us, as we go, We see the imprint of our master''s feet. Those blessed feet that trod for our poor sake The way of matchless sacrifice and pain, To sanctify earth''s sorrows and to make A path of peace through all life''s tumult plain. Well may we hold thee dear, O Lententide, Who helpest us with clearer eyes to see The way He went, the cross on which He died, The love that compasseth eternity. Hail! quiet time that teachest us to bear A little hardness for that Holy Name, That helpest us perchance the cup to share Which He so deeply drank of woe and shame. O children of His Church, turn not away! Draw close and ever closer to His side, So when the glory dawns of Easter Day, For you the gates of joy shall open wide. Can we not watch with Him a little while? It is the self-same voice that calls us yet, And still the eager world would us beguile And stop our ears and lure us to forget. Can we not watch with Him? Tor us He trod, Through burning days and awful nights, alone, The pathless wilderness. The Son of God Hungered for bread and only found a stone. Shall we not follow on the painful road The Man of Sorrow and the Lord of Love, Bending for us beneath sin''s dreadful load That He might lift us to the Peace above? Could ye not watch with Me one hour? He said To those who slept while He in agony All through that hour to the Father prayed, Wrapt in the shadows of Gethsemane. Oh, is it nothing to you, passer-by? Behold and see if there be any woe Like unto His who for the... Tryphena Matilda Browne, Books, History, Drake's Bay, And Other Poems Books>History Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Slew A new year, oh, my soul! See in the glad sunrise The path untrodden lies Towards the great goal. The path lies clear and wide, With ample room to raise Temples of love and praise That may abide. And, broadcast through the land, By roadside, and in field, Lie stones wherewith to build, Cut to our hand. Deeds waiting to be done, Of tender charity And sweet humility ? Each deed a stone. Deeds waiting to be done, Each day a cross to take Gladly for His dear sake, Who bore His own. Deeds waiting to be done, Sin to be crucified, And self to be denied Through Him alone. My soul, why dost thou fear? Why trembling dost thou stand Upon the border-land Of this new year? Alas! the old year saw Wrong for the right I willed, The promise unfulfilled, The broken Law! Saw how my idle hand Has left the good undone, And not a victory won That I had planned! Well mayt thou fear, my soul, For all thy strength is naught, The way with danger fraught, And far the goal. But in the opening day, One stands to lift thy weight Of sin, and guide thee straight Along the way. DRAKE'S BAY AND OTHER POEMS Open thine ears and hear That sweet and awful voice That bids even thee rejoice In His new year. "TLike "Palestine" Here in the Southland, where the olives grow Beneath such skies as arch Judea's hills, I love to think that He who when below Tasted for us all human griefs and ills, Sometimes found rest within the solemn shade Of gnarled olives, in some secret glade. Here in the Southland, where the olives grow I think of those within Gethsemane, Veiling the awful secret of His woe, Mute witnesses of that dread agony, While they the chosen three, who should have kept Their watch for ...<

ISBN: 9780217829632

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not … Plus…

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1913 edition. Excerpt: ... Dear Lententide, that like a quiet way Leads from life''s noisy thoroughfare apart, Thy shadowed silence falls upon the day And stills the restless beating of the heart. We pass within thy sacred shade and lo! Yielding our spirit to thine influence sweet, Upon the path before us, as we go, We see the imprint of our master''s feet. Those blessed feet that trod for our poor sake The way of matchless sacrifice and pain, To sanctify earth''s sorrows and to make A path of peace through all life''s tumult plain. Well may we hold thee dear, O Lententide, Who helpest us with clearer eyes to see The way He went, the cross on which He died, The love that compasseth eternity. Hail! quiet time that teachest us to bear A little hardness for that Holy Name, That helpest us perchance the cup to share Which He so deeply drank of woe and shame. O children of His Church, turn not away! Draw close and ever closer to His side, So when the glory dawns of Easter Day, For you the gates of joy shall open wide. Can we not watch with Him a little while? It is the self-same voice that calls us yet, And still the eager world would us beguile And stop our ears and lure us to forget. Can we not watch with Him? Tor us He trod, Through burning days and awful nights, alone, The pathless wilderness. The Son of God Hungered for bread and only found a stone. Shall we not follow on the painful road The Man of Sorrow and the Lord of Love, Bending for us beneath sin''s dreadful load That He might lift us to the Peace above? Could ye not watch with Me one hour? He said To those who slept while He in agony All through that hour to the Father prayed, Wrapt in the shadows of Gethsemane. Oh, is it nothing to you, passer-by? Behold and see if there be any woe Like unto His who for the... Tryphena Matilda Browne, Books, History, Drake's Bay, And Other Poems Books>History, General Books LLC<

ISBN: 9780217829632

Tryphena Matilda Browne, Paperback, English-language edition, Pub by General Books LLC Books History~~General Drakes-Bay-And-Other-Poems~~Tryphena-Matilda-Browne General Books LLC Purchas… Plus…

Tryphena Matilda Browne, Paperback, English-language edition, Pub by General Books LLC Books History~~General Drakes-Bay-And-Other-Poems~~Tryphena-Matilda-Browne General Books LLC Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Slew A new year, oh, my soul! See in the glad sunrise The path untrodden lies Towards the great goal. The path lies clear and wide, With ample room to raise Temples of love and praise That may abide. And, broadcast through the land, By roadside, and in field, Lie stones wherewith to build, Cut to our hand. Deeds waiting to be done, Of tender charity And sweet humility ? Each deed a stone. Deeds waiting to be done, Each day a cross to take Gladly for His dear sake, Who bore His own. Deeds waiting to be done, Sin to be crucified, And self to be denied Through Him alone. My soul, why dost thou fear? Why trembling dost thou stand Upon the border-land Of this new year? Alas! the old year saw Wrong for the right I willed, The promise unfulfilled, The broken Law! Saw how my idle hand Has left the good undone, And not a victory won That I had planned! Well mayt thou fear, my soul, For all thy strength is naught, The way with danger fraught, And far the goal. But in the opening day, One stands to lift thy weight Of sin, and guide thee straight Along the way. DRAKE'S BAY AND OTHER POEMS Open thine ears and hear That sweet and awful voice That bids even thee rejoice In His new year. "TLike "Palestine" Here in the Southland, where the olives grow Beneath such skies as arch Judea's hills, I love to think that He who when below Tasted for us all human griefs and ills, Sometimes found rest within the solemn shade Of gnarled olives, in some secret glade. Here in the Southland, where the olives grow I think of those within Gethsemane, Veiling the awful secret of His woe, Mute witnesses of that dread agony, While they the chosen three, who should have kept Their watch for ...<