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A Cyclopædia of Sacred Poetical Quotations: Consisting of Choice Passages from the Sacred Poetry of All Ages and Countries, Classified and Arranged, for Facility of Reference, Under Subject Headings; Illustrated by Striking Passages from Scripture, and Forming Altogether a Complete Book of Devotional Poetry.

Religion

A Cyclopædia of Sacred Poetical Quotations: Consisting of Choice Passages from the Sacred Poetry of All Ages and Countries, Classified and Arranged, for Facility of Reference, Under Subject Headings; Illustrated by Striking Passages from Scripture, and Forming Altogether a Complete Book of Devotional Poetry.

Quotations; Religious poetry

The world, in all its boasted grandeur proud,
      In all its stores of dazzling splendour bright,
    Is but a transient, unsubstantial cloud,
      Which the sun skirts with momentary light:
    Anon, the assailing winds impetuous rise,
      Black lowers the tempest in the sullen sky;
    Before the driving blast the vision dies,
      And all the vivid tints of splendour fly:
    Pass but a moment, every ray is gone:
    Nor e’en a vestige left where the bright glories shone.

    And shall we, for this visionary gleam,
      Degenerate, swerve from _Heaven’s_ immortal plan?
    Give up, for vanity’s light airy dream,
      The nobler heritage reserved for man?
    Though rocks their cragged heads in ambush hide,
      Though storms and tempests sweep the angry main,
    While Hope’s fair star shines forth, auspicious guide,
      E’en tempests, storms, and rocks oppose in vain.
    Safe, ’mid the ocean’s iterated force,
    The sacred vessel shapes her _Heaven_-directed course.
                                            _Samuel Hayes._


    There is an hour of peaceful rest,
      To mourning wanderers given;
    There is a tear for souls distrest,
    A balm for every wounded breast,
      ’Tis found above--in _heaven_!

    There is a soft, a downy bed,
      ’Tis fair as breath of even;
    A couch for weary mortals spread,
    Where they may rest their aching head,
      And find repose in _heaven_!
                                    _Anon._




                                 HELL.


The wicked shall be turned into _hell_, and all the nations that forget
God.--Psalm ix. 17.

I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: Fear him, which after he hath
killed hath power to cast into _hell_.--Luke, xii. 5.

God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to _hell_,
and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto
judgment.--II. Peter, ii. 4.


    Divines and dying men may talk of _hell_,
    But in my heart her several torments dwell.
                                    _Shakspere._


    _Hell_, their fit habitation, fraught with fire
    Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain.
                                           _Milton._


              Which way shall I fly,
    Infinite wrath and infinite despair?
    Which way I fly is _hell_; myself am _hell_;
    And in the lowest deep, a lower deep
    Still threatening to devour me opens wide,
    To which the _hell_ I suffer seems a heaven.
                                        _Milton._


    _Hell_ hath no limits, nor is circumscribed
    In one self place; but where we are is _hell_;
    And where _hell_ is, there must we ever be;
    And, to be short, when all the world dissolves,
    And every creature shall be purified,
    All places shall be _hell_ that are not heaven.
                                          _Marlowe._

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

Religion

A Cyclopædia of Sacred Poetical Quotations: Consisting of Choice Passages from the Sacred Poetry of All Ages and Countries, Classified and Arranged, for Facility of Reference, Under Subject Headings; Illustrated by Striking Passages from Scripture, and Forming Altogether a Complete Book of Devotional Poetry.

Quotations; Religious poetry

The world, in all its boasted grandeur proud,
      In all its stores of dazzling splendour bright,
    Is but a transient, unsubstantial cloud,
      Which the sun skirts with momentary light:
    Anon, the assailing winds impetuous rise,
      Black lowers the tempest in the sullen sky;
    Before the driving blast the vision dies,
      And all the vivid tints of splendour fly:
    Pass but a moment, every ray is gone:
    Nor e’en a vestige left where the bright glories shone.

    And shall we, for this visionary gleam,
      Degenerate, swerve from _Heaven’s_ immortal plan?
    Give up, for vanity’s light airy dream,
      The nobler heritage reserved for man?
    Though rocks their cragged heads in ambush hide,
      Though storms and tempests sweep the angry main,
    While Hope’s fair star shines forth, auspicious guide,
      E’en tempests, storms, and rocks oppose in vain.
    Safe, ’mid the ocean’s iterated force,
    The sacred vessel shapes her _Heaven_-directed course.
                                            _Samuel Hayes._


    There is an hour of peaceful rest,
      To mourning wanderers given;
    There is a tear for souls distrest,
    A balm for every wounded breast,
      ’Tis found above--in _heaven_!

    There is a soft, a downy bed,
      ’Tis fair as breath of even;
    A couch for weary mortals spread,
    Where they may rest their aching head,
      And find repose in _heaven_!
                                    _Anon._




                                 HELL.


The wicked shall be turned into _hell_, and all the nations that forget
God.--Psalm ix. 17.

I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: Fear him, which after he hath
killed hath power to cast into _hell_.--Luke, xii. 5.

God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to _hell_,
and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto
judgment.--II. Peter, ii. 4.


    Divines and dying men may talk of _hell_,
    But in my heart her several torments dwell.
                                    _Shakspere._


    _Hell_, their fit habitation, fraught with fire
    Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain.
                                           _Milton._


              Which way shall I fly,
    Infinite wrath and infinite despair?
    Which way I fly is _hell_; myself am _hell_;
    And in the lowest deep, a lower deep
    Still threatening to devour me opens wide,
    To which the _hell_ I suffer seems a heaven.
                                        _Milton._


    _Hell_ hath no limits, nor is circumscribed
    In one self place; but where we are is _hell_;
    And where _hell_ is, there must we ever be;
    And, to be short, when all the world dissolves,
    And every creature shall be purified,
    All places shall be _hell_ that are not heaven.
                                          _Marlowe._

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

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