OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Who Shall Deliver Me?

God strengthen me to bear myself; That heaviest weight of all to bear, Inalienable weight of care.
All others are outside myself; I lock my door and bar them out The turmoil, tedium, gad-about.
I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all?
If I could once lay down myself, And start self-purged upon the race That all must run! Death runs apace.
If I could set aside myself, And start with lightened heart upon The road by all men overgone!
God harden me against myself, This coward with pathetic voice Who craves for ease and rest and joys:
Myself, arch-traitor to myself; My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe, My clog whatever road I go.
Yet One there is can curb myself, Can roll the strangling load from me Break off the yoke and set me free.
# Who Killed Cock Robin?

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Who Killed Cock Robin?."
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This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* "Who Killed Cock Robin?", traditional nursery rhyme
* "Who Killed Cock Robin?", a short story by Margaret Cameron
# Who Should Join The "C.B.C."?

WHO SHOULD JOIN THE "C.B.C."?
Society for Constructive Birth Control and Racial Progress
EVERYONE, but in particular
YOUNG MARRIED PEOPLE.
Because they want to space the babies they are looking forward to so lovingly in order that mother and babies shall be strong and healthy. Births which succeed one another too rapidly generally result in a weakened mother and children less sturdy than they should be.
MARRIED PEOPLE who have no children.
Because Constructive Birth Control is just as much concerned to lure babies to homes where they are wanted as to guard them from coming to unsuitable homes.
MARRIED PEOPLE who have too many children.
Because Control should be exerted so as to save little unwanted lives from coming into miserable, diseased or over-crowded homes.
BACHELOR MEN.
Because their own marriages are delayed by high taxes, and a heavy item in our taxation is due to the cost of maintaining wastrels and defectives who ought never to have been born.
BACHELOR WOMEN (whether they intend to marry or not).
Because all women have the mother instinct and must wish to see the world made safe for babies.
THE RATEPAYER of EITHER SEX.
Because a very high proportion of the rates is spent on the upkeep of the physically weak and defectives in one form or another.
THE IDEALIST.
Because motherhood is too sacred an office to be held unwillingly.
THE HARD-HEADED POLITICIAN.
Because a healthy and contented people takes an intelligent interest in affairs.
THE STATESMAN.
Because the control of population to within the limits each country can support is the way to prevent war.
EVERYONE.
Because to secure "Babies in the right place" is to bulwark our national strength, and this can be accomplished without wastage only by Constructive Control.
Write for Membership Forms to the Hon. Secretary, C.B.C., The Clinic, 61, Marlborough Road, London, N. 19.
J. B., S. & D., Ltd.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Death of the Wife of a Clergyman, during the Sickness of her Husband

DEATH OF THE WIFE OF A CLERGYMAN, DURING THE SICKNESS OF HER HUSBAND.
Dark sorrow brooded o'er the Pastor's home,
The prayer was silent, and the loving group
That sang their hymn of praise at even and morn
Now droop'd in pain,—or with a noiseless step
Tended the sick. It was a time of woe:
Days measur'd out in anguish, and drear nights
Mocking the eye that waited for the dawn.
They, who from youth by hallow'd vows conjoin'd,
Had borne life's burdens with united arm,
And side by side, its adverse fortunes foil'd,
Apart,—an agonizing warfare fought
With Nature's stern destroyer. Tidings past
From couch to couch,—how stood the doubtful strife
'Twixt life and death. They might not lay their hand
Upon each other's throbbing brow,—or breathe
The words of comfort, for Disease had set
A gulf between them.
Hark! what sound appall'd
The suffering husband? 'Twas a mourner's sob
Beside his bed.
 "My Mother will not speak,
They say she's dead."
 Art thou the messenger,
Poor boy! from whom the love that gently sooth'd
Thy cradle moan,—that 'mid thy sports did trace
The great Creator's name, and on thro' life
Mid all its wanderings and adversities
Would still have clung to thee untir'd, unchang'd,
Is blotted out forever? Thou dost tell
A loss thou canst not measure.
 She, the friend,
The Mother, imag'd in those daughter's hearts,
First, dearest, best-beloved,—who joy'd to walk
The meek companion of a Man of God
Hath given her hand to that Destroyer's grasp
Who rifleth the clay cottage,—sending forth
The immortal habitant. Fearless she laid
Earth's vestments by.
 And thou, whose tenderest trust
Did strongly rivet on that marble form,
Whose confidence in that cold breast was seal'd
So fearlessly and long, lift up thy soul,
"She is not here,—but risen." Show the faith
Which thou hast preach'd to others, by its power
In the dark night of trouble. Take the cross,
And from thy bruised heart pour freshly forth
The spirit of thy Lord, teaching thy flock
To learn Jehovah's lessons,—and be still.
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Education of Pious and Indigent Young Men

EDUCATION OF PIOUS AND INDIGENT YOUNG MEN.
There are, who knowledge prize,
 Who for its blessings pray,
But penury shuts it from their eyes,
 Rend ye those shades away.
There are, who fain would toil
 The immortal mind to lead,
They have no skill to till its soil,
 Send ye the gifts they need.
Ye, who such bounty yield
 Like Heaven's reviving rain,
Who gird these striplings for the field
 Shall see Goliath slain.
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Death of an Aged Man

DEATH OF AN AGED MAN.
Rise, weary spirit, to a realm of rest!
 Sorrow hath had her will of thee, and Pain,
With a destroyer's fury prob'd thy breast,
 But thou, the victory through Christ didst gain;
 Rise, freed from stain.
Years wrote their history on thy furrow'd brow
 In withering lines; and Time like ocean's foam
Swept o'er the shores of hope, till thou didst know
 Earth's emptiness. But now no more to roam
 Pass to thy home.
Blest filial Love rescu'd its freshest wreath
 Of changeless green and blooming buds for thee,
And o'er thy bosom threw its grateful breath,
 When the waste world, but weeds of misery
 Spread for thine eye.
Take up the triumph-song, thou who didst bow
 So long and meekly, 'neath the Chastener's rod,
Thou, whose firm faith beheld with raptur'd glow
 The resurrection cleave the burial-sod,
 Go to thy God.
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Death of the Rev. Alfred Mitchell

DEATH OF THE REV. ALFRED MITCHELL.
One of his last inquiries was,——"Am I so near my home?"
So near thy home, blest saint? Thy Father's house
Hath many mansions, if it were not so
He would have told thee, who hath there prepar'd
A place for thee, his servant. Earth's array
Of charms was strong to tempt thy lingering love.
The fond communings round thy native hearth,
Where 'mid the honor'd and the blest did blend
Soul deep with soul, thy own unclouded home,
Thy answer'd sympathies, thy hallow'd hopes,
A parent's joys close clustering round thy heart,
The flock that gather'd near thee, pleas'd to learn
From thy mild eye, and lip benign, the will
Of the Chief Shepherd,—ties like these were thine.
—And one there is, who with a widow'd heart
Through the lone shadows of life's pilgrim-path,
Will follow in thy footsteps, even as thou
Didst follow Christ.
 Thy pleasant spot of birth
Is sad without thee, and an ancient head
Circled with years and blessings as a crown
Bows low with the first pang thou e'er didst cause
A father's bosom. Ah! and there are tears
Of tender love in many an eye for thee,
Sackcloth and ashes in the house of God.
'Tis well. Pure spirits should not pass unmourn'd,
This earth is poor without them. But a view
Of better climes broke on thee, and thy soul
Rose o'er its stricken tent with outspread wing
Of seraph rapture: for to reach a home
Where is no restless hope, no vain desire,
No film o'er faith's bright eye, for love no blight,
Is glorious gain: and lo! that home is thine.
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Death of the Rev. W. C. Walton

DEATH OF THE REV. W. C. WALTON.
So, from the field of labor, thou art gone
To thy reward,—like him who putteth off
His outer garment, at the noon-tide hour,
To take a quiet sleep. Thy zeal hath run
Its course untiring, and thy quicken'd love
Where'er thy Master pointed, joy'd to go.
—Amid thy faithful toil, his summons came,
Warning thee home,—and thou didst loose thy heart
From thy fond flock, and from affection's bonds,
And from thy blessed children's warm embrace,
With smiles, and songs of praise.
 Death smote thee sore.
And plung'd his keen shaft in the quivering nerve,
Making the breath that stirr'd life's broken valve,
A torturing gasp, but with thy martyrdom,
Were smiles, and songs of praise.
 And thou didst rise
Above the pealing of these Sabbath bells
Up to that glorious and unspotted Church,
Whose worship is eternal.
 Would that all
Who love our Lord, might with thy welcome look
On the last foe, not as a spoiler sent
To wreck their treasures, and to blast their joys,
But as a friend, who wraps the weary clay
With earth, its mother, and doth raise the soul
To that blest consummation, which its prayers
Unceasingly besought, tho' its blest hopes
But faintly shadow'd forth,
So, tho' we hear
Thy voice on earth no more, the holy hymn
With which thou down to Jordan's shore didst pass,
To take thy last, cold baptism, still shall waft
As from some cloud its echo'd sweetness back,
To teach us of the melody of Heaven.
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Departure of Missionaries for Ceylon

DEPARTURE OF MISSIONARIES FOR CEYLON.
Wave, wide Ceylon, your foliage fair,
 Your spicy fragrance freely strew;
See, Ocean's threatening surge we dare,
 To bear salvation's gift to you.
Hail! ye who long with faithful hand
 Have fondly till'd that favor'd soil,
We come, we come, a brother-band
 To share the burden of your toil.
Land of our birth! we may not stay
 The ardor of hearts to tell,
Friends of our youth! we dare not say
 How deep within our souls ye dwell.
But when the dead, both small and great
 Shall stand before the Judge's seat,
When sea and sky and earthly state
 All like a baseless vision fleet,
The hope that then some heathen eye
 Thro' us, an angel's glance may raise,
Bids us to vanquish nature's tie,
 And turn her parting tear to praise.
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Dreams

DREAMS.
"Knowest thou what thou art, in the hour of sleep? Who is the illuminator of the soul? Who hath seen, who knoweth him? Taliessin.
Revere thyself! for thou art wonderful
Even in thy passiveness. Hail, heir of Heaven!
Immortal mind! that when the body sleeps
Doth roam with unseal'd eye, on tireless wing,
Where Memory hath no chart, and Reason finds
No pole-star for her compass. Guest divine!
Our earthly nature bows itself to thee,
Putting its ear of clay unto the sigh
Of thy disturbed visions, if perchance
It win some whisper of thy glorious birth,
And deathless heritage.
 Oh, dreams are dear
To those whom waking life hath surfeited
With dull monotony. 'Tis sweet when Day
Hath been a weariness, and Evening's hand
Like some lean miser, greedily doth clutch
The flowers that Morning brought us, to lie down,
And breathe a fragrance that they never knew,
Pressing our fingers to the thornless Rose,
That springs where'er we tread.
 'Tis very sweet
To 'scape from stern Reality, who sits
Like some starch beldame, all precise and old,
And sheer intolerant, and on the wing
Of radiant Fancy, soar unblam'd and wild,
And limitless. When niggard Fortune makes
Our pillow stony, like the patriarch's bed
Who slept at Bethel, gentle dreams do plant
An airy ladder for the angels' feet,
Changing our hard couch for the gate of Heaven.
They feed us on ambrosia, till we loath
Our household bread.
 To traverse all untir'd
Broad realms, more bright than fabled Araby,
To hear unearthly music, to plunge deep
In seas of bliss, to make the tyrant-grave
Unlock its treasure-valve, and yield the forms
Whose loss we wept, back to our glad embrace,
To wear the tomb's white drapery, yet to live,
And hold unshrinking pastime with the dead,
To catch clear glimpses of fair streets of gold,
And harpers harping on the eternal hills,
These are the gifts of dreams, and we would speak
Most reverently of their high ministry.
—See, life is but a dream. Awake! Awake!
Break off the trance of vanity, and look
With keen, undazzled eye, above the cloud
That canopies man's hopes. Yea! hear the voice
Of Deity, that 'mid his hour of sleep,
In the still baptism of his dewy dreams,
Doth bear such witness of the undying soul
As breath'd o'er Jordan's wave, "Behold my Son!"
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Death of the Rev. Dr. Cornelius

DEATH OF THE REV. DR. CORNELIUS.
"All ye that were about him, bemoan him, and all ye that know his name, say, how is the strong staff broken,—and the beautiful rod?"—Jer. xlviii, 17.
And can it be,—and can it be, that thou art on thy bier? But yesterday, in all the prime of life's unspent career!
I've seen the forest's noblest tree laid low, when lightnings shine,
The column in its majesty torn from the temple-shrine,
Yet little deem'd that ice so soon would check thy vital stream,
The Sun that soar'd without a cloud, thus veil its noon-day beam.
I've seen thee in thy glory stand, while all around was hush'd,
And seraph-wisdom from thy lips, in tones of music gush'd,
For thou, with willing hand didst lay at morning's dewy hour,
Down at the feet of Him, who gave thy beauty and thy power,
Thou, for the helpless sons of woe, didst plead with words of flame,
And boldly strike the rocky heart, in thy Redeemer's name.
And lo! that withering race who fade as dew 'neath summer's ray,
Who like the uprooted weed are cast from their own earth away,
Who trusted to a nation's vow, yet found that faith was vain,
And to their fathers' sepulchres return no more again;
They need thy blended eloquence of lip, and eye, and brow,
They need the righteous for a shield, why art thou absent now?
Long shall thine image freshly dwell beside their native streams,
And 'mid their wanderings far and wide, illume their alien dreams,
For Heaven to their sequester'd haunts thine early steps did guide,
And the Cherokee hath bless'd thy brow, his cabin-hearth beside,
The Osage orphan sadly breath'd her sorrows to thine ear,
And the lofty warrior knelt him down with strange, repentant tear.
I see a consecrated throng, of youthful watchmen rise,
Each girding on for Zion's sake, their heaven-wrought panoplies,
These, in their solitudes obscure, thy generous ardor sought,
And gathering with a tireless hand, up to the temple brought
These, while the altar of their God, they serve with hallow'd zeal,
Shall wear thy memory on their heart, an everlasting seal.
I hear a voice of wailing from the islands of the sea,
Salvation's distant heralds mourn on heathen shores for thee,
Thy constant love, like Gilead's balm, refresh'd their weary mind,
And with the bless'd Evart's name thine own was strongly twin'd,
But thou, from this illusive scene, hast like a vision fled,
Just wrapp'd his mantle o'er thy breast, then join'd him with the dead.
Farewell! we yield thee to the tomb, with many a bitter tear,
Tho' 'twas not meet a soul like thine should longer tarry here,
Fond, clustering hopes have sunk with thee, that earth can ne'er restore.
Love casts a garland on thy turf, that may not blossom more,
But thou art where the dream of hope doth in fruition fade,
And Love, immortal and refin'd, glow on without a shade.
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Death of the Rev. Gordon Hall

DEATH OF THE REV. GORDON HALL.
The healer droops,—no more his skill
May ease the sufferer's moan,—
The hand that sooth'd another's pang,
Sinks powerless neath its own;
The Teacher dies;—he came to plant
Deep in a heathen soil,
The germ of everlasting life,
He faints amid the toil.
There was a vision of the Sea,
That pain'd his dying strife,
Why stole that vision o'er his soul,
Thus 'mid the wreck of life?
A form, by holiest love endear'd
There rode the billowy crest,
And tenderly his pallid boys
Were folded to her breast.
Then rose the long remember'd scenes
Of his far, native bowers,
The white-spir'd church, the mother's hymn,
And boyhood's clustering flowers,
And strong that country of his heart,
The green and glorious West,
Shar'd in the parting throb of love
That shook the dying breast.
Brief was the thought, the dream, the pang,
 For high Devotion came,
And brought the martyr's speechless joy,
 And wing'd the prayer of flame,
And stamp'd upon the marble face
 Heaven's smile serenely sweet,
And bade the icy, quivering lip
 The praise of God repeat.
Strange, olive brows with tears were wet,
 As a lone grave was made,
And there, mid Asia's arid sands
 Salvation's herald laid,
But bright that shroudless clay shall burst
 From its uncoffin'd bed,
When the Archangel's awful trump
 Convenes the righteous dead.
# Zinzendorff and Other Poems/Establishment of a Female College in New-Grenada, South America

ESTABLISHMENT OF A FEMALE COLLEGE IN NEW-GRENADA, SOUTH AMERICA.
Ye have done well, my brethren. Thus to cast
The balm of healing at the fountain's head
Was wisely done. For on the thousand streams
That murmur freshly round your hallowed homes
Its blessedness shall flow. Well have ye scanned
With philosophic eye, their latent worth,
Who in the weakness of a tender frame,
And shrinking consciousness of ill, might seem
Of utile import. Yet those fragile forms,
Now trembling in their beauty and their fear,
Shall kindle with new energies: high hope
And martyr-like endurance, and deep strength
To toil untired, to suffer and be still,
And all those deathless sympathies that spring
Up from a mother's love. These shall be theirs;
And what you trust to them of mental wealth,
Knowledge, or virtue, or the truth of God,
Shall blossom round the cradle of your sons,
And bear rich harvest in your country's fame.
Realms there have been, which, like your own did rend
A despot's shackles from their giant-breast,
And rush to freedom. But the baneful breath
Of ignorance, or luxury, or sin,
Swept o'er them as a siroch, and they sank
Amid the waste of ages. They, perchance,
Did look on woman as a worthless thing,
A cloistered gem, a briefly-fading flower,
Remembering not that she had kingly power
O'er the young soul. They deemed not that those lines,
Graved so indelibly, that all the storms
And water-floods of Time erase them not,
Which even stern Death peruses when he seals
The scroll of life up for the judgment-bar,
Were from a mother's pencil.
 Ye have judged,
That 'mid a nation's elements, her hand
Might cast a healthful leaven, and her lip,
Even from the mouldering pillow of the grave,
Reach with its dove-like, heaven-taught eloquence,
A race unborn. According to your faith
Be your reward. And may the glorious voice
Of liberty, from Andes' cloud-wreathed crown,
Through every region whence your rivers hoard
Their ocean tribute, go with godlike strength,
Wakening new nations to Jehovah's praise.
# Wolsey v. Chapman

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
101 U.S. 755
Wolsey v. Chapman
APPEAL from the Circuit Court of the United States for the District of Iowa.
The facts are stated in the opinion of the court.
The case was argued by Mr. Galusha Parsons for the appellants, and by Mr. George G. Wright for the appellee.
MR. CHIEF JUSTICE WAITE delivered the opinion of the court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Wollensak v. Reiher

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
115 U.S. 87
Wollensak v. Reiher
Ephraim Banning, Thos. A. Banning, and L.L. Bond, for appellant.
Wm. A. McKenney, for appellee.
MATTHEWS, J.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Wollensak v. Sargent

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
151 U.S. 221
Wollensak v. Sargent
Statement by Mr. Chief Justice FULLER:
This was a consolidated bill in equity founded on two reissued patents granted to appellant for improvement in transom lifters, as follows: No. 9,307, July 20, 1880, (original patent No. 136,801, March 11, 1873,) and No. 10,264, December 26, 1882, (original patent No. 148,538, March 10, 1874.) Appellee was charged with the infringement of the third claim of the reissued patent No. 9,307 and the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and ninth claims of reissue No. 10,264.
The circuit court, on pleadings and proofs, held reissue No. 9,307 invalid for want of patentable novelty, and, on demurrer, reissue No. 10,264 void as to the claims relied on, for laches apparent on the record, and not sufficiently explained by the allegations of the bill.
The opinion of Judge Shipman on motion for preliminary injunction is reported in 33 Fed. 840, and that on final hearing in 41 Fed. 53.
E. Banning and T. A. Banning, for appellant.
John K. Beach, for appellees.
Mr. Chief Justice FULLER, after stating the facts in the foregoing language, delivered the opinion of the court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse