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The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 5. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 44 0 Browse Search
James Russell Lowell, Among my books 36 0 Browse Search
John Jay Chapman, William Lloyd Garrison 36 0 Browse Search
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 1. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 36 0 Browse Search
C. Edwards Lester, Life and public services of Charles Sumner: Born Jan. 6, 1811. Died March 11, 1874. 34 0 Browse Search
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 2. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 28 0 Browse Search
Margaret Fuller, Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (ed. W. H. Channing) 28 0 Browse Search
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 22 0 Browse Search
Jula Ward Howe, Reminiscences: 1819-1899 20 0 Browse Search
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 1, Colonial and Revolutionary Literature: Early National Literature: Part I (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 18 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier). You can also browse the collection for Christ or search for Christ in all documents.

Your search returned 11 results in 6 document sections:

The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Personal Poems (search)
tening hair,— The song of freedom's bloodless victories! Rejoice, O Garibaldi! Though thy sword Failed at Rome's gates, and blood seemed vainly poured Where, in Christ's name, the crowned infidel Of France wrought murder with the arms of hell On that sad mountain slope whose ghostly dead, Unmindful of the gray exorcist's ban, Wais for frames and moods Who followed Duty where she went. The broad, fair fields of God he saw Beyond the bigot's narrow bound; The truths he moulded into law In Christ's beatitudes he found. His state-craft was the Golden Rule, His right of vote a sacred trust; Clear, over threat and ridicule, All heard his challenge: ‘Is it jate, he knew The generous victor's graceful part To sheathe the sword he drew. When Earth, as if on evil dreams, Looks back upon her wars, And the white light of Christ outstreams From the red disk of Mars, His fame who led the stormy van Of battle well may cease, But never that which crowns the man Whose victory was Peace. Mo
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Occasional Poems (search)
to Thee we kneel, Stretch dumbly forth our hands, and feel Our weakness is our strong appeal. So, by these Western gates of Even We wait to see with Thy forgiven The opening Golden Gate of Heaven! Suffice it now. In time to be Shall holier altars rise to Thee,— Thy Church our broad humanity! White flowers of love its walls shall climb, Soft bells of peace shall ring its chime, Its days shall all be holy time. A sweeter song shall then be heard,— The music of the world's accord Confessing Christ, the Inward Word! That song shall swell from shore to shore, One hope, one faith, one love, restore The seamless robe that Jesus wore. Hymn For the House of Worship at Georgetown, Erected in memory of a Mother. The giver of the house was the late George Peabody, of London. thou dwellest not,O Lord of all! In temples which thy children raise; Our work to thine is mean and small, And brief to thy eternal days. Forgive the weakness and the pride, If marred thereby our gift may be, F
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), The tent on the Beach (search)
Doth the Love Eternal flow; Every chain that spirits wear Crumbles in the breath of prayer; And the penitent's desire Opens every gate of fire. Still Thy love, O Christ arisen, Yearns to reach these souls in prison! Through all depths of sin and loss Drops the plummet of Thy cross! Never yet abyss was found Deeper than that crossd battle-music of the drum. A little while the world may run Its old mad way, with needle-gun And iron-clad, but truth, at last, shall reign: The cradle-song of Christ was never sung in vain!” Shifting his scattered papers, ‘Here,’ He said, as died the faint applause, “Is something that I found last year Down on the island k; the sounds of labor died; Men prayed, and women wept; all ears grew sharp To hear the doom-blast of the trumpet shatter The black sky, that the dreadful face of Christ Might look from the rent clouds, not as he looked A loving guest at Bethany, but stern As Justice and inexorable Law. Meanwhile in the old State House, dim as g
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Poems by Elizabeth H. Whittier (search)
falling tears, at last I said, “Forsworn indeed to me that veil Because I only love the dead!” She stood one moment statue-still, And, musing, spake, in undertone, “The living love may colder grow; The dead is safe with God alone” Charity. the pilgrim and stranger who through the day Holds over the desert his trackless way, Where the terrible sands no shade have known, No sound of life save his camel's moan, Hears, at last, through the mercy of Allah to all, From his tent-door at evening the Bedouin's call: “Whoever thou art whose need is great, In the name of God, the Compassionate And Merciful One, for thee I wait!” For gifts in His name of food and rest The tents of Islam of God are blest, Thou who hast faith in the Christ above, Shall the Koran teach thee the Law of Love?— O Christian!—open thy heart and door, Cry east and west to the wandering poor: “Whoever thou art whose need is great, In the name of Christ, the Compassionate And Merciful One,
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Appendix (search)
lling rafters, They turned from the furnace glare; But its tenant cried, “God help me! I must save my mother's chair.” Under the blazing portal, Over the floor of fire, He seemed, in the terrible splendor, A martyr on his pyre. In his face the mad flames smote him, And stung him on either side; But he clung to the sacred relic,— By his mother's chair he died! O mother, with human yearnings! O saint, by the altar stairs! Shall not the dear God give thee The child of thy many prayers? O Christ! by whom the loving, Though erring, are forgiven, Hast thou for him no refuge, No quiet place in heaven? Give palms to thy strong martyrs, And crown thy saints with gold, But let the mother welcome Her lost one to thy fold! Letter to Lucy Larcom. 25th 3d mo., 1866. Believe me, Lucy Larcom, it gives me real sorrow That I cannot take my carpet-bag and go to town to-morrow; But I'm snow-bound, and cold on cold, like layers of an onion, Have piled my back and weighed me down as with t<
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Index of first lines (search)
d counted the hours, IV. 401. Not without envy Wealth at times must look, III. 366. Not with the splendors of the days of old, III. 58. Now, joy and thanks forevermore, III. 146. O Ary Scheffer! when beneath thine eye, III. 211. O Christ of God! whose life and death, II. 305. O dearest bloom the seasons know, II. 331. O dearly loved, IV. 48. O dwellers in the stately towns, IV. 181. O'er the bare woods, whose outstretched hands, II. 37. Of all that Orient lands ca, known of all the town, IV. 251. Pipes of the misty moorlands, i. 183. Poet and friend of poets, if thy glass, IV. 285. Poor and inadequate the shadow-play, II. 169. Pray give the Atlantic, IV. 408. Put up the sword! The voice of Christ once more, III. 365. Raze these long blocks of brick and stone, i. 230. Red as the banner which enshrouds, IV. 343. Right in the track where Sherman, III. 264. Rivermouth Rocks are fair to see, IV. 235. Robert Rawlin!—Frosts were f