The Bradfordian, Issue 1

Front Cover
H.B. Byles, 1862
 

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Page 218 - And they departed from the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for his name. 42 And daily in the temple, and in every house, they ceased not to teach and preach Jesus Christ.
Page 202 - As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness: I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness.
Page 133 - Nor he could not get down. He then bethought him of his bugle-horn, Which hung low down to his knee, He set his horn unto his mouth, And blew out weak blasts three. Then Little John, when hearing him, As he sat under the tree, " I fear my master is near dead, He blows so wearily.
Page 143 - THERE is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dews on still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes; Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. Here are cool mosses deep, And thro...
Page 111 - I've heard— from all I've seen? What know I more that's worth the knowing ? What have I done that's worth the doing ? What have I sought that I should ' shun? What duties have I left undone ? Or into what new follies run? These self-inquiries are the road, That leads to virtue and to God.
Page 202 - The righteous perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart : and merciful men are taken away, none considering that the righteous is taken away from the evil to come. He shall enter into peace : they shall rest in their beds, each one walking in his uprightness.
Page 43 - An angel-guard of loves and graces lie ; Around her knees domestic duties meet, And fire-side pleasures gambol at her feet. Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found? " Art thou a man — a patriot ? look around, O thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, That land thy country, and that spot thy home.
Page 133 - I'll not grant thee ; 60 I never hurt woman in all my life, Nor man in woman's company. 'I never hurt fair maid in all my time, Nor at my end shall it be ; But give me my bent bow in my hand, And a broad arrow I'll let flee ; And where this arrow is taken up, There shall my grave digg*d be.
Page 10 - I consider a human soul without education like marble in the quarry, which shows none of its inherent beauties, until the skill of the polisher fetches out the colours, makes the surface shine, and discovers every ornamental cloud, spot, and vein, that runs through the body of it.
Page 145 - tis the soul of peace ; Of all the virtues 'tis nearest kin to heaven ; It makes men look like gods. The best of men That e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer, A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit, The first true gentleman that ever breath'd.

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