Valentine Duval: an autobiography [tr. by B.B. Batty] ed. by the author of 'Mary Powell'.

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Page 283 - Join voices, all ye living souls ; ye birds, That singing up to Heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise. Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep ; Witness if I be silent, morn or even, To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade, Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. Hail, universal Lord ! be bounteous still To give us only good ; and if the night Have gathered aught of evil or concealed, Disperse it, as now light dispels...
Page 282 - Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, In honour to the world's great Author rise...
Page 281 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Page 282 - With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. Thou Sun, of this great World both eye and soul...
Page 231 - How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought And simple truth his utmost skill! Whose passions not his masters are, Whose soul is still prepared for death, Not tied unto the world by care Of public fame, or private breath...
Page 282 - Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels : for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heaven, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling mom With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While...
Page 282 - Thou sun of this great world, both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater, sound his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st.
Page 282 - His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and, wave your tops, ye Pines With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Page 282 - Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Page 70 - Though man a thinking being is defined, Few use the grand prerogative of mind : How few think justly of the thinking few ! How many never think, who think they do ! Opinion, therefore — such our mental dearth — Depends on mere locality or birth.

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