Thee Quotes

O Lord, I do most cheerfully commit all unto Thee.

Holy angel, in Heaven blessed, My spirit longs with thee to rest

Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just. Why do sinners' ways prosper? and why must Disappointment all I endeavour end?

O gentle vision in the dawn: My spirit over faint cool water glides, Child of the day, To thee; And thou art drawn By kindred impulse over silver tides The dreamy way To me.

And all the trips you know you missed And all the lips you never kissed Cut through you like a knife. And now you see stretched out before thee Just another story of a life.

As I love nature, as I love singing birds, and gleaming stubble, and flowing rivers, and morning and evening, and summer and winter, I love thee, my Friend.

Take this sorrow to thy heart and make it part of thee, and it shall nourish thee till thou art strong again.

Take them, O Death! and bear away Whatever thou canst call thine own! Thine image, stamped upon this clay, Doth give thee that, but that alone!

I seek refuge in Thee from every hope which would distract me.

Stood I, O Nature! man alone in thee, Then were it worth one's while a man to be.

I pray thee let me and my fellow have a haire of the dog that bit us last night.

Be lowly wise: Think only what concerns thee and thy being.

Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me man? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me?

Must I thus leave thee, Paradise?-thus leave Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades?

God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more Is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time.

When thou attended gloriously from heaven , Shalt in the sky appear, and from thee send Thy summoning archangels to proclaim Thy dread tribunal.

If so men's memories not a monument be, None shalt thou have. Warm hearts, and not cold stone, Must mark thy grave, or thou shalt lie, unknown. Marbles keep not themselves; how then, keep thee?

The image of Eternity--the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land-Good Night!

Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom, On thee shall press no ponderous tomb; But on thy turf shall roses rear Their leaves, the earliest of the year.

Severally on the occasion of everything that thou doest, pause and ask thyself, if death is a dreadful thing because it deprives thee of this.

All things are in the act of change; thou thyself in ceaseless transformation and partial decay, and the whole universe with thee.

Laurel crowns cleave to deserts And power to him who power exerts; Hast not thy share? On winged feet, Lo! it rushes thee to meet; . . .

So preach that those who do not fall out with their sins may fall out with thee.

Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee.

How beautiful is sunset when the glow Of Heaven descends upon a land like thee, Thou Paradise of exiles, Italy!

Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.

One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it.

So tutor youth that the sins of age be not imputed to thee.

If I call not thee in my prayers, if I keep not thee in my heart, thy love for me still waits for my love.

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty! Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee.

Go in thy native innocence, rely On what thou hast of virtue, summon all, For God towards thee hath done his part, do thine.

When I come to be united to thee with all my being, then there will be no more pain and toil for me, and my life shall be a real life, being wholly filled by thee.

Lord, who art always the same, give that I know myself, give that I know Thee.

Lord, thou madest us for thyself, and we can find no rest till we find rest in thee.

Sleep undisturbed within this peaceful shrine, Till angels wake thee with a note like thine.

Death lieth still in the way of life, Like as a stone in the way of a brook; I will sing against thee, Death, as the brook does, I will make thee into music which does not die.

Lead us, Heavenly Father, lead us O'er the world's tempestuous sea; Guard us, guide us, keep us, feed us, For we have no help but Thee.

Love Him, and keep Him for thy Friend, who, when all go away, will not forsake thee, nor suffer thee to perish at the last.

Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?

England, with all thy faults I love thee still, My country!

Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice And could of men distinguish her election, Sh'ath sealed thee for herself.

Master, go on, and I will follow thee To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.

By Heaven, I love thee better than myself

Be as just and gracious unto me, As I am confident and kind to thee.

I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well

To thee, fair Freedom! I retire From flattery, cards, and dice, and din: Nor art thou found in mansions higher Than the low cot, or humble inn.

We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.

We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud, And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent.

We now to peace and darkness And earth and thee restore Thy creature that thou madest And wilt cast forth no more.