Waverley Novels, Volume 7

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A. & C. Black, 1852
 

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Page 466 - Come, and let us return unto the Lord: for he hath torn, and he will heal us; he hath smitten, and he will bind us up. After two days will he revive us: in the third day he will raise us up, and we shall live in his sight.
Page 134 - All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key; As if our hands, our sides...
Page 353 - Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.
Page 448 - Alas ! it is not when we sleep soft and wake merrily ourselves that we think on other people's sufferings. Our hearts are waxed light within us then, and we are for righting our ain wrangs and fighting our ain battles.
Page 304 - Tis the voice of the sluggard, I've heard him complain, "You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again...
Page 15 - Atlantic wave ? Is India free ? and does she wear her plumed And jewelled turban with a smile of peace, Or do we grind her still? The grand debate, The popular harangue, the tart reply, The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit...
Page 328 - A little that a righteous man hath is better than the riches of many wicked.
Page 612 - TRUTH, THAT GUILT, THOUGH IT MAY ATTAIN TEMPORAL SPLENDOUR, CAN NEVER CONFER REAL HAPPINESS ; THAT THE EVIL CONSEQUENCES OF OUR CRIMES LONG SURVIVE THEIR COMMISSION, AND, LIKE THE GHOSTS OF THE MURDERED, FOR EVER HAUNT THE STEPS OF THE MALEFACTOR ; AND THAT THE PATHS OF VIRTUE, THOUGH SELDOM THOSE OF WORLDLY GREATNESS, ARE ALWAYS THOSE OF PLEASANTNESS AND PEACE.
Page 248 - He hath destroyed me on every side, and I am gone: and mine hope hath he removed like a tree.
Page 387 - Fantastic passions ! maddening brawl ! And shame and terror over all ! Deeds to be hid which were not hid, Which all confused I could not know Whether I suffered, or I did: For all seemed guilt, remorse or woe, My own or others still the same Life-stifling fear, soul-stifling shame.

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