Thee, Son Beloved! of plural Unity Essential part, made flesh that mad’st all worlds.
ABRAHAM COLESThe power to bind and loose to Truth is given: The mouth that speaks it is the mouth of Heaven
More Abraham Coles Quotes
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We hail the return of the day of thy birth, Fair Columbia! washed by the waves of two oceans Where men from the farthest dominions of earth Rear altars to Freedom, and pay their devotions;
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Be every bar, and every star, Displayed in full and glorious manner! Blow, zephyrs, blow, keep the dear ensign flying! Blow, zephyrs, sweetly mournful, sighing, sighing, sighing!
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Eternity! How know we but we stand On the precipitous and crumbling verge Of Time e’en now, Eternity below?
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O loving woman, man’s fulfillment, sweet, Completing him not otherwise complete! How void and useless the sad remnant left Were he of her, his nobler part, bereft.
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Much of our ignorance is of ourselves. Our eyes are full of dust. Prejudice blinds us.
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The power, which in a sense belongs to none, Thus understood belongs to every one.
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O most illustrious of the days of time! Day full of joy and benison to earth When Thou wast born, sweet Babe of Bethlehem!
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When hands clasped hands, and lips to lips were pressed, And the heart’s secret was at once confessed?
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The rapturous touch of some divine surpriseFlash deep suffusion of celestial dyes
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He dares confront the time, And speak the truth, and give the world no rest No kingly threat can cowardize his breath, He with majestic step goes forth to meet his death.
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Fling out, fling out, with cheer and shout, To all the winds of Our Country’s Banner!
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O, beautiful and grand, My own, my native land! Of thee I boast: Great empire of the west, The dearest and the best, Made up of all the rest, I love thee most.
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Words are freeborn, and not the vassals of the gruff tyrants of prose to do their bidding only. They have the same right to dance and sing as the dewdrops have to sparkle and the stars to shine.
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The grave, where sets the orb of being, sets To rise, ascend, and culminate above Eternity’s horizon evermore.
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Poetry is unfallen speech. Paradise knew no other, for no other would suffice to answer the need of those ecstatic days of innocence.
ABRAHAM COLES