Celebration of the Two-hundredth Anniversary of the Incorporation of Bridgewater, Massachusetts: At West Bridgewater, June 3, 1856 : Including the Address by Hon. Emory Washburn, of Worcester : Poem by James Reed ... and Other Exercises of the Occasion : with an Appendix
J. Wilson and Son, 1856 - 167페이지
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93 페이지 - Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power, By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour ; Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
93 페이지 - Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all: And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
95 페이지 - While scourged by famine from the smiling land. The mournful peasant leads his humble band; And while he sinks, without one arm to save, The country blooms, a garden and a grave.
91 페이지 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and GOD has given my share — I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down...
111 페이지 - His preaching much, but more his practice wrought; (A living sermon of the truths he taught); For this by rules severe his life he squared, That all might see the doctrine which they heard.
93 페이지 - Where many a time he triumphed is forgot. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye...
68 페이지 - These lofty trees Wave not less proudly that their ancestors Moulder beneath them. Oh, there is not lost One of earth's charms : upon her bosom yet, After the flight of untold centuries, The freshness of her far beginning lies And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate Of his arch-enemy Death — yea, seats himself Upon the tyrant's throne — the sepulchre, And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe Makes his own nourishment.
68 페이지 - My heart is awed within me when I think Of the great miracle that still goes on, In silence, round me, — the perpetual work Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed Forever.