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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

Lord I will take no comfort but of Thee!
      I had an earthly plant--a pleasant vine,
      From whose dear grapes I pressed delightful wine,
    Which made my heart as merry as could be.
    Thine anger hath cut down that cheerful tree;
      Or at the least, (for yet I but divine,)
    Thou hast cut off its joyful fruit from me,
      And made its precious shade no longer mine.
    Shall I then murmur? If my road henceforth
      Lies but before me wearisome and bare,
      And no green garland twined amid my hair
        Will guard, as it was wont, my tortured eyes,
    What then? The sweeter after this stripped earth
        Will be the shady rest of _Paradise_.
                                      _Thomas Burbidge._


    The God of nature and of grace
      In all His work appears;
    His goodness through the earth we trace,
      His grandeur in the spheres.

    Behold this fair and fertile globe,
      By Him in wisdom planned;
    ’Twas He who girded, like a robe,
      The ocean round the land.

    Lift to the firmament your eye,
      Thither His path pursue;
    His glory boundless as the sky,
      O’erwhelms the wandering view.

    The forests in His strength rejoice,
      Hark! on the evening breeze,
    As once of old, the Lord God’s voice
      Is heard among the trees.

    His blessings fall in plenteous showers
      Upon the lap of earth,
    That teems with foliage, fruit, and flowers,
      And rings with infant mirth.

    If God hath made the world so fair,
      Where sin and death abound;
    How beautiful, beyond compare,
      Will _Paradise_ be found!
                              _James Montgomery._




                                PARDON.


And Moses said unto the Lord, _Pardon_, I beseech Thee, the iniquity of
this people according unto the greatness of Thy mercy, and as Thou hast
forgiven this people, from Egypt even until now.

And the Lord said, I have _pardoned_ according to thy word.--Numbers,
xiv. 13, 19, 20.

Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts;
and let him return unto the Lord, and He will have mercy upon him; and
to our God, for He will abundantly _pardon_.--Isaiah, lv. 7.


    But infinite in _pardon_ is our judge.
                                  _Milton._


    What can we better do than prostrate fall
    Befort Him reverent, and there confess
    Humbly our faults, and _pardon_ beg, with tears
    Watering the ground?
                                           _Milton._


    When with deep agony His heart was racked,
    Not for Himself the tear-drop dewed His cheek,
    For them He wept, for them to Heaven He prayed,--
    His persecutors--“Father _pardon_ them;
    They know not what they do.”
                                       _Charles Lamb._

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

Lord I will take no comfort but of Thee!
      I had an earthly plant--a pleasant vine,
      From whose dear grapes I pressed delightful wine,
    Which made my heart as merry as could be.
    Thine anger hath cut down that cheerful tree;
      Or at the least, (for yet I but divine,)
    Thou hast cut off its joyful fruit from me,
      And made its precious shade no longer mine.
    Shall I then murmur? If my road henceforth
      Lies but before me wearisome and bare,
      And no green garland twined amid my hair
        Will guard, as it was wont, my tortured eyes,
    What then? The sweeter after this stripped earth
        Will be the shady rest of _Paradise_.
                                      _Thomas Burbidge._


    The God of nature and of grace
      In all His work appears;
    His goodness through the earth we trace,
      His grandeur in the spheres.

    Behold this fair and fertile globe,
      By Him in wisdom planned;
    ’Twas He who girded, like a robe,
      The ocean round the land.

    Lift to the firmament your eye,
      Thither His path pursue;
    His glory boundless as the sky,
      O’erwhelms the wandering view.

    The forests in His strength rejoice,
      Hark! on the evening breeze,
    As once of old, the Lord God’s voice
      Is heard among the trees.

    His blessings fall in plenteous showers
      Upon the lap of earth,
    That teems with foliage, fruit, and flowers,
      And rings with infant mirth.

    If God hath made the world so fair,
      Where sin and death abound;
    How beautiful, beyond compare,
      Will _Paradise_ be found!
                              _James Montgomery._




                                PARDON.


And Moses said unto the Lord, _Pardon_, I beseech Thee, the iniquity of
this people according unto the greatness of Thy mercy, and as Thou hast
forgiven this people, from Egypt even until now.

And the Lord said, I have _pardoned_ according to thy word.--Numbers,
xiv. 13, 19, 20.

Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts;
and let him return unto the Lord, and He will have mercy upon him; and
to our God, for He will abundantly _pardon_.--Isaiah, lv. 7.


    But infinite in _pardon_ is our judge.
                                  _Milton._


    What can we better do than prostrate fall
    Befort Him reverent, and there confess
    Humbly our faults, and _pardon_ beg, with tears
    Watering the ground?
                                           _Milton._


    When with deep agony His heart was racked,
    Not for Himself the tear-drop dewed His cheek,
    For them He wept, for them to Heaven He prayed,--
    His persecutors--“Father _pardon_ them;
    They know not what they do.”
                                       _Charles Lamb._

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

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