A Commentary on the Song of Solomon

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William S. Martien, 1853 - 527ÆäÀÌÁö

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301 ÆäÀÌÁö - The sun shall be no more thy light by day; neither for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee: but the LORD shall be unto thee an everlasting light, and thy God thy glory.
444 ÆäÀÌÁö - I have seen A curious Child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped Shell ; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely ; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy ; for murmurings from within Were heard, — sonorous cadences ! whereby, To his belief, the Monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native Sea.
234 ÆäÀÌÁö - The eternal regions : lowly reverent Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground With solemn adoration down they cast Their crowns inwove with amarant and gold ; Immortal amarant, a flower which once In Paradise, fast by the tree of life, Began to bloom ; but soon for man's offence To heaven removed where first it grew, there grows, And flowers aloft shading the fount of life...
490 ÆäÀÌÁö - That to the observer doth thy history Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper, as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not.
188 ÆäÀÌÁö - They shall not hunger nor thirst ; Neither shall the heat nor sun smite them : For he that hath mercy on them shall lead them, Even by the springs of water shall he guide them.
65 ÆäÀÌÁö - I will set him in safety from him that puffeth at him. 6 The words of the Lord are pure words: as silver tried in a furnace of earth, purified seven times.
489 ÆäÀÌÁö - Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove, What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed, How nature paints her colours, how the bee Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet.
287 ÆäÀÌÁö - The voice of my beloved ! behold he cometh Leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills. My beloved is like a roe or a young hart : Behold, he standeth behind our wall, He looketh forth at the windows, Shewing himself through the lattice.
382 ÆäÀÌÁö - With buds, and bells, and stars without a name, With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign, Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same...
486 ÆäÀÌÁö - And whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it.

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