Taking our stand on the immovable rock of Christ’s character we risk nothing in saying that the wine of miracle answered to the wine of nature, and was not intoxicating.
ABRAHAM COLESO, 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.
More Abraham Coles Quotes
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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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The grave, where sets the orb of being, sets To rise, ascend, and culminate above Eternity’s horizon evermore.
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True love is humble, thereby is it known; Girded for service, seeking not its own; Vaunts not itself, but speaks in self-dispraise.
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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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The rapturous touch of some divine surpriseFlash deep suffusion of celestial dyes
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The weary Body, longing for repose, On the gained level of the day’s ascent, Halts for the night and pitches there its tent.
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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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I value science–none can prize it more, It gives ten thousand motives to adore: Be it religious, as it ought to be, The heart it humbles, and it bows the knee.
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No counter proof can equal the force of that drawn from His attributes. It is an indecency and a calumny to impute to Christ conduct which requires apology.
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With dazzling pomp descending angels sung Good will and peace to men, to God due praise, Who on the errand of salvation sent
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Through the long lapse of ages, that so there might be An asylum for all in the Land of the Free.
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On eyes that watch as well as eyes that weep Descends the solemn mystery of sleep, Toiling and climbing to the very close
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Much of our ignorance is of ourselves. Our eyes are full of dust. Prejudice blinds us.
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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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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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