The Poetical Works of William Cowper ...

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Little, Brown, 1853
 

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Page 34 - Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take ; The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.
Page 48 - SOMETIMES a light surprises The Christian while he sings ; It is the Lord who rises With healing in his wings : When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again A season of clear shining To cheer it after rain.
Page 16 - E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming love has been my theme, And shall be till I die.
Page 31 - A glory gilds the sacred page, Majestic, like the sun ; It gives a light to every age, It gives, but borrows none. 3 The hand that gave it, still supplies The gracious light and heat ; His truths upon the nations rise, They rise, but never set. 4 Let everlasting thanks be thine, For such a bright display, As makes a world of darkness shine With beams of heavenly day.
Page 35 - Trials make the promise sweet, Trials give new life to prayer; Trials bring me to his feet, Lay me low and keep me there.
Page 34 - Blind unbelief is sure to err ^ And scan his work in vain : God is his own interpreter, And He will make it plain.
Page 317 - Wash'd headlong from on board, Of friends, of hope, of all bereft, His floating home for ever left. No braver chief could Albion boast Than he with whom he went, Nor ever ship left Albion's coast With warmer wishes sent. He loved them both, but both in vain, Nor him beheld, nor her again.
Page 30 - Restraining prayer, we cease to fight ; Prayer makes the Christian's armour bright ; And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.
Page 310 - Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary! Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust, disused, and shine no more, My Mary! For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil The same kind office for me still, Thy sight now seconds not thy will, My Mary! But well thou play'dst the housewife's part; And all thy threads, with magic art, Have wound themselves about this heart, My Mary!
Page 30 - Have you no words ? Ah, think again, Words flow apace when you complain, And fill your fellow-creature's ear "With the sad tale of all your care. 6 Were half the breath thus vainly spent To heaven in supplication sent, Your cheerful song would oftener be, " Hear what the Lord has done for me !

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