The Religious Magazine and Monthly Review, Volume 47

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L.C. Bowles, 1872 - Unitarianism
 

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Page 25 - Then Judas, which had betrayed him, when he saw that he was condemned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders, 4 Saying, I have sinned, in that I have betrayed the innocent blood.
Page 379 - There are in this loud stunning tide Of human care and crime, With whom the melodies abide Of the everlasting chime ; Who carry music in their heart Through dusky lane and wrangling mart, Plying their daily task with busier feet, Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.
Page 371 - Now when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow: and much people of the city was with her. And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.
Page 549 - All things are delivered unto me of my Father, and no man knoweth the Son, but the Father; neither knoweth any man the Father, save the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal him.
Page 286 - What art thou afraid of? Wherefore, like a coward, dost thou forever pip and whimper, and go cowering and trembling? Despicable biped! what is the sum-total of the worst that lies before thee? Death? Well, Death; and say the pangs of Tophet too, and all that the Devil and Man may, will or can do against thee! Hast thou not a heart; canst thou not suffer...
Page 526 - As some rare perfume, in a vase of clay, Pervades it with a fragrance not its own, So, when Thou dwellest in a mortal soul, All heaven's own sweetness seems around it thrown.
Page 345 - FORASMUCH as many have taken in hand to set forth in order a declaration of those things which are most surely believed among us...
Page 175 - Then said Jesus unto them, When ye have lifted up the Son of man, then shall ye know that I am he, and that I do nothing of myself; but as my Father hath taught me, I speak these things.
Page 550 - My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all : and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand.
Page 137 - The Old Oaken Bucket How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view ! The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew!

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