The Pupils of St. John the Divine

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Macmillan, 1874 - Church history - 320 pages

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Page 30 - And He saith unto them, Ye shall drink indeed of my cup, and be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with : but to sit on my right hand, and on my left, is not mine to give, but it shall be given to them for whom it is prepared of my Father.
Page 279 - The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell...
Page 294 - And they shall fall by the edge of the sword, and shall be led away captive into all nations : and Jerusalem shall be trodden down of the Gentiles, until the times of the Gentiles be fulfilled.
Page 58 - It is a faithful saying: For if we be dead with him, we shall also live with him: if we suffer, we shall also reign with him...
Page 293 - And after threescore and two weeks shall Messiah be cut off, but not for himself: and the people of the prince that shall come shall destroy the city and the sanctuary ; and the end thereof shall be with a flood, and unto the end of the war desolations are determined.
Page 308 - Because thou hast kept the word of my patience, I also will keep thee from the hour of temptation, which shall come upon al the world, to try them that dwell upon the earth.
Page 1 - The lonely mountains o'er and the resounding shore a voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; from haunted spring and dale edged with poplar pale the parting Genius is with sighing sent; with flower-inwoven tresses torn the nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
Page 245 - For from the rising of the sun even unto the going down of the same my name shall be great among the Gentiles...
Page 69 - In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God ; all things were made by him, and without him was not any thing made that was made.
Page 154 - Is this thy place, sad city, this thy throne, Where the wild desert rears its craggy stone; While suns unblest their angry lustre fling, And wayworn pilgrims...

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