The power to bind and loose to Truth is given: The mouth that speaks it is the mouth of Heaven
ABRAHAM COLESO most illustrious of the days of time! Day full of joy and benison to earth When Thou wast born, sweet Babe of Bethlehem!
More Abraham Coles Quotes
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The rapturous touch of some divine surpriseFlash deep suffusion of celestial dyes
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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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Death separates, but it also unites. It reunites whom it separates.
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Where our fathers in fight, nobly strove for the Right, Struck down their fierce foemen or put them to flight
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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 power, which in a sense belongs to none, Thus understood belongs to every one.
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Let us not doubt that God has a father’s pity towards us, and that in the removal of that which is dearest to us He is still loving and kind.
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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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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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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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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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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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Within a bony labrinthean cave, Reached by the pulse of the aerial wave, This sibyl, sweet, and Mystic Sense is found, Muse, that presides o’er all the Powers of Sound.
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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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True love is humble, thereby is it known; Girded for service, seeking not its own; Vaunts not itself, but speaks in self-dispraise.
ABRAHAM COLES