Mysteries of City Life; Or, Stray Leaves from the World's Book: Being a Series of Tales, Sketches, Incidents, and Scenes, Founded Upon the Notes of a Home Missionary
J.W. Moore, 1849 - 408 sider
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appearance asked beautiful become bright called cause CHAPTER character child closed cold crime curse dark daughter dead dear death deep dollars door doubt dreams earth entered exclaimed eyes face fact father fearful feel gazed Giles girl give grave hand happy head heard heart heaven hope hour human kind LEAF leave letter light lives look Mary matter means mind misery mother nature never night object once opened passed past picture poor poverty pray prayer present readers rested rich scene seemed seen smile soul sound speak stand stood street suffering tears tell thing thought told true turned voice wife wild window woman wretched young youth
Side 64 - Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear ; Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all. Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks : Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.
Side 25 - What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle, Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile : In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown ; The heathen, in his blindness, Bows down to wood and stone...
Side 382 - For the oppression of the poor, for the sighing of the needy, now will I arise, saith the LORD; I will set him in safety from him that puffeth at him.
Side 264 - tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, ^ That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death.
Side 25 - FROM Greenland's icy mountains, From India's coral strand; Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand; From many an ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain.
Side 70 - And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand. When thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength; a fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth.
Side 251 - Offer unto God thanksgiving; and pay thy vows unto the most High: And call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.
Side 107 - Of their own limbs : how many drink the cup Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread Of misery ! Sore pierc'd by wintry winds, How many shrink into the sordid hut Of cheerless poverty...