Night Thoughts on Life Death & Immortality;: To which is Added A Paraphrase on Part of the Book of Job, and The Last Day a Poem

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Suttaby, Evance & Fox , ... and Baldwin, Cradock & Joy, 1823 - Bible - 300 pages
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Page 4 - This is the bud of being, the dim dawn, The twilight of our day, the vestibule : Life's theatre as yet is shut, and Death, Strong Death, alone .can heave the massy bar, This gross impediment of clay remove, And make us embryos of existence free.
Page 2 - Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and nature made a pause, An awful pause ! prophetic of her end.
Page 2 - To reason, and on reason build resolve (That column of true majesty in man,) Assist me : I will thank you in the grave ; The grave, your kingdom : there this frame shall fall A victim sacred to your dreary shrine. But what are ye ? — • Thou who didst put to flight Primeval silence, when the morning...
Page 6 - The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie On earthly bliss ; it breaks at every breeze.
Page 159 - Hope, of all passions, most befriends us here; Passions of prouder name befriend us less. Joy has her tears, and transport has her death : Hope, like a cordial, innocent, though strong, Man's heart, at once, inspirits and serenes, Nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys...
Page 124 - Reason progressive, instinct is complete ; Swift instinct leaps ; slow reason feebly climbs. Brutes soon their zenith reach ; their little all Flows in at once ; in ages they no more Could know, or do, or covet, or enjoy. Were man to live coeval with the sun, The patriarch-pupil would be learning still ; Yet, dying, leave his lesson half unlearnt.
Page 162 - One bustling, and one dancing, into death. There's not a day but, to the man of thought, Betrays some secret that throws new reproach On life, and makes him sick of seeing more. The scenes of business tell us — ' What are men ;' The scenes of pleasure — ' What is all beside :' There others we despise ; and here ourselves.
Page 2 - The bell strikes one. We take no note of time, But from its loss. To give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the, knell of my departed hours : Where are they?
Page 80 - In the same brook none ever bathed him twice ; To the same life none ever twice awoke. We call the brook the same ; the same we think Our life, though still more rapid in its flow, Nor mark the much irrevocably lapsed, And mingled with the sea.
Page 16 - If nothing more than purpose in thy power, Thy purpose firm is equal to the deed. Who does the best his circumstance allows, Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.

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