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The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 2. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 8 0 Browse Search
Margaret Fuller, Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (ed. W. H. Channing) 6 0 Browse Search
J. William Jones, Christ in the camp, or religion in Lee's army 6 0 Browse Search
Harper's Encyclopedia of United States History (ed. Benson Lossing) 5 1 Browse Search
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 3 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 4 0 Browse Search
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 4 0 Browse Search
Charles E. Stowe, Harriet Beecher Stowe compiled from her letters and journals by her son Charles Edward Stowe 4 0 Browse Search
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 7. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 2 0 Browse Search
Medford Historical Society Papers, Volume 5. 2 0 Browse Search
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 3. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 2 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 2. You can also browse the collection for Nazareth, Pennsylvania (Pennsylvania, United States) or search for Nazareth, Pennsylvania (Pennsylvania, United States) in all documents.

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Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 2, The pulpit (1860). (search)
they live contented. But in fact, the master-hand of that wealth which commands the town, as much decides the quality of the preaching on Sundays as he does the fineness of the cloth made weekdays. It is merely the jugglery of wealth; merely the reflection of that same unlimited power that now, through all the avocations of life, seem so to control us. You know this as well as I do. Now, that sort of pulpit ought not to have any influence. It needs an apology. The lyceum is Jesus of Nazareth casting out its devil; and it is natural that such a preacher should say to the lyceum lecturer, Why dost thou torment me before my time? To the dead body, you know, the first movement of blood and the first element of returning life is exquisite pain; so to the mind dwarfed and fettered by such a pulpit, the first entering of a thought endeavoring, with magnetic and electric circles, to new-arrange society, is exquisite pain. It ought to be. There is a class of women which is a fair g