In every pang that rends the heart

'Tis very vain for me to boast How small a price my Bible cost, The day of judgment will make clear 'Twas very cheap — or very dear,

Now Spring returns; but not to me returns.

"My dear little daughter," said he, "you cannot be so glad to come back as my arms and my heart will be to receive you."

"And when we die, All’s over that is ours; and life burns on Through other lovers, other lips," said I —"Heart of my heart, our heaven is now, is won!" "We are earth’s best, that learnt her lesson here, Life is our cry. We have kept the …

Lincoln and Douglass; Douglass and Lincoln! May their names ever be welded into one memory in the hearts of every Negro in the land!

I would desire that every man would lay his hand on his heart, and consider seriously whether the beginning of the people's happiness should be written in letters of blood.