Who has not seen that feeling born of flame Crimson the cheek at mention of a name?
ABRAHAM COLESTrue love is humble, thereby is it known; Girded for service, seeking not its own; Vaunts not itself, but speaks in self-dispraise.
More Abraham Coles Quotes
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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.
ABRAHAM COLES -
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 most illustrious of the days of time! Day full of joy and benison to earth When Thou wast born, sweet Babe of Bethlehem!
ABRAHAM COLES -
The grave, where sets the orb of being, sets To rise, ascend, and culminate above Eternity’s horizon evermore.
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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.
ABRAHAM COLES -
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 COLES -
The rapturous touch of some divine surpriseFlash deep suffusion of celestial dyes
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The power to bind and loose to Truth is given: The mouth that speaks it is the mouth of Heaven
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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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Death separates, but it also unites. It reunites whom it separates.
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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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Where our fathers in fight, nobly strove for the Right, Struck down their fierce foemen or put them to flight
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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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Much of our ignorance is of ourselves. Our eyes are full of dust. Prejudice blinds us.
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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.
ABRAHAM COLES