OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Mine and Thine (1904)/The Irish Shamrock in South Africa

THE IRISH SHAMROCK IN SOUTH AFRICA
O little plant, so meek and slight, Tinct with the emerald of the sea Which like a mother, day and night, Croons melodies to thee; Emblem of Erin's hope and pride! Though crushed and trampled under foot, Thou still art found The meadows 'round, Up-springing from thine own sweet root!
Of sorrow thou hast been the sign Through weary, unforgiving years; ​The dews upon thy tender vine Have seemed thy country's tears; Now, now forevermore, thou art Symbol of all that's brave and true— Blest as a smile Of thy sunlit isle, In the Old World honored, and the New!
For they lie asleep in a land of strangers, Far from the home their fame endears— The Inniskillings, the Connaught Rangers, The Dublin Fusiliers; And the little plant they loved so well— Better than fairest flower that blows— Is set apart In Britannia's heart With the Scottish thistle and the rose:
​Is set apart, and never again Shall human eyes the shamrock see Without a thought of the heroes slain Whose splendid loyalty, Stronger than ancient hate or wrong, Sublimed them 'midst the battle's hell,— A tidal wave From the souls of the brave, That made them deathless as they fell!
# Mine and Thine (1904)/Renewal

RENEWAL
These sounds sonorous rolling! These vibrant tones and clear! Listen! The bells are tolling The requiem of the year: The year that dies, as mute it lies Mid fallen leaves and sere!
Now by the fading embers That on the hearthstone glow, How sadly one remembers The things of long ago: The wistful things, with flame-bright wings, That vanished long ago!
​The self-effacing sorrow, The generous desire, The pledges for the morrow, Enkindled at this fire!— Enkindled here, O dying year! Where smoulders low thy pyre.
What hope and what ambition, What dreams beyond recall! And look we for fruition, To find them ashes all? Is life the wraith of love—of faith? Then let the darkness fall!
The sparks—how fast they dwindle! How faint their being glows! Quickly the fire rekindle— Ah, quickly! e'er it goes! ​Woo living breath from the lips of death!— From ashes bring the rose! ······· Kind God! The bells, in gladness! The rose of hope hath bloomed! For, consecrating sadness, Life hath its own resumed, And welcomes here the new-born year— A phœnix, unconsumed!
# Mine and Thine (1904)/Rouen : In the Prison of Joan of Arc

ROUEN: IN THE PRISON OF JOAN OF ARC
She laid her head upon the straw, She who had crowned a king of France, And angel shapes, whom no man saw, For her deliverance, Knelt at her feet—less pure, less sweet— A blessing in each glance.
She laid her head upon the straw, She who gave France her liberty, And angel shapes, whom no man saw— Ah me! how could men see?— Watched till the day, then bore away Something the flames set free.
# Mine and Thine (1904)/Socrates

SOCRATES
He raised the hemlock to his lips, He drained the fatal draught, Calmly conversing with his friends, As he a wine had quaffed; And, ah! what wine so rich to bless? The torch of day grown dim, Death's cup has less of bitterness For all, because of him!
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series I/Volume I/Confessions/Book I/Chapter 5

Chapter V.—He Seeks Rest in God, and Pardon of His Sins.
5. Oh! how shall I find rest in Thee? Who will send Thee into my heart to inebriate it, so that I may forget my woes, and embrace Thee my only good? What art Thou to me? Have compassion on me, that I may speak. What am I to Thee that Thou demandest my love, and unless I give it Thee art angry, and threatenest me with great sorrows? Is it, then, a light sorrow not to love Thee? Alas! alas! tell me of Thy compassion, O Lord my God, what Thou art to me. “Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation.” So speak that I may hear. Behold, Lord, the ears of my heart are before Thee; open Thou them, and “say unto my soul, I am thy salvation.” When I hear, may I run and lay hold on Thee. Hide not Thy face from me. Let me die, lest I die, if only I may see Thy face.
6. Cramped is the dwelling of my soul; do Thou expand it, that Thou mayest enter in. It is in ruins, restore Thou it. There is that about it which must offend Thine eyes; I confess and know it, but who will cleanse it? or to whom shall I cry but to Thee? Cleanse me from my secret sins, O Lord, and keep Thy servant from those of other men. I believe, and therefore do I speak; Lord, Thou knowest. Have I not confessed my transgressions unto Thee, O my God; and Thou hast put away the iniquity of my heart? I do not contend in judgment with Thee, who art the Truth; and I would not deceive myself, lest my iniquity lie against itself. I do not, therefore, contend in judgment with Thee, for “if Thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand?”

## Footnotes

* ↑ Ps. xxxv. 3.
* ↑ Moriar ne moriar, ut eam videam. See Ex. xxxiii. 20.
* ↑ Ps. xix. 12, 13. “Be it that sin may never see the light, that it may be like a child born and buried in the womb; yet as that child is a man, a true man, there closeted in that hidden frame of nature, so sin is truly sin, though it never gets out beyond the womb which did conceive and enliven it.”—Sedgwick
* ↑ Ps. cxvi. 10.
* ↑ Ps. xxxii. 5.
* ↑ Job ix. 3.
* ↑ Ps xxvi. 12, Vulg. “The danger of ignorance is not less than its guilt. For of all evils a secret evil is most to be deprecated, of all enemies a concealed enemy is the worst. Better the precipice than the pitfall; better the tortures of curable disease than the painlessness of mortification; and so, whatever your soul’s guilt and danger, better to be aware of it. However alarming, however distressing self-knowledge may be, better that than the tremendous evils of self-ignorance.”—Caird.
* ↑ Ps. cxxx. 3.
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series I/Volume I/Confessions/Book I/Chapter 9

Chapter IX.—Concerning the Hatred of Learning, the Love of Play, and the Fear of Being Whipped Noticeable in Boys: and of the Folly of Our Elders and Masters.
14. O my God! what miseries and mockeries did I then experience, when obedience to my teachers was set before me as proper to my boyhood, that I might flourish in this world, and distinguish myself in the science of speech, which should get me honour amongst men, and deceitful riches! After that I was put to school to get learning, of which I (worthless as I was) knew not what use there was; and yet, if slow to learn, I was flogged! For this was deemed praiseworthy by our forefathers; and many before us, passing the same course, had appointed beforehand for us these troublesome ways by which we were compelled to pass, multiplying labour and sorrow upon the sons of Adam. But we found, O Lord, men praying to Thee, and we learned from them to conceive of Thee, according to our ability, to be some Great One, who was able (though not visible to our senses) to hear and help us. For as a boy I began to pray to Thee, my “help” and my “refuge,” and in invoking Thee broke the bands of my tongue, and entreated Thee though little, with no little earnestness, that I might not be beaten at school. And when Thou heardedst me not, giving me not over to folly thereby, my elders, yea, and my own parents too, who wished me no ill, laughed at my stripes, my then great and grievous ill.
15. Is there any one, Lord, with so high a spirit, cleaving to Thee with so strong an affection—for even a kind of obtuseness may do that much—but is there, I say, any one who, by cleaving devoutly to Thee, is endowed with so great a courage that he can esteem lightly those racks and hooks, and varied tortures of the same sort, against which, throughout the whole world, men supplicate Thee with great fear, deriding those who most bitterly fear them, just as our parents derided the torments with which our masters punished us when we were boys? For we were no less afraid of our pains, nor did we pray less to Thee to avoid them; and yet we sinned, in writing, or reading, or reflecting upon our lessons less than was required of us. For we wanted not, O Lord, memory or capacity, of which, by Thy will, we possessed enough for our age,—but we delighted only in play; and we were punished for this by those who were doing the same things themselves. But the idleness of our elders they call business, whilst boys who do the like are punished by those same elders, and yet neither boys nor men find any pity. For will any one of good sense approve of my being whipped because, as a boy, I played ball, and so was hindered from learning quickly those lessons by means of which, as a man, I should play more unbecomingly? And did he by whom I was beaten do other than this, who, when he was overcome in any little controversy with a co-tutor, was more tormented by anger and envy than I when beaten by a playfellow in a match at ball?

## Footnotes

* ↑ Ps. ix. 9, and xlvi. 1, and xlviii. 3.
* ↑ Ps. xxii. 2, Vulg.
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series I/Volume I/Confessions/Book II

Book II.
He advances to puberty, and indeed to the early part of the sixteenth year of his age, in which, having abandoned his studies, he indulged in lustful pleasures, and, with his companions, committed theft.

## Contents

* Chapter 1
* Chapter 2
* Chapter 3
* Chapter 4
* Chapter 5
* Chapter 6
* Chapter 7
* Chapter 8
* Chapter 9
* Chapter 10
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series I/Volume I/Confessions/Book II/Chapter 1

Chapter I.—He Deplores the Wickedness of His Youth.
1. I Will now call to mind my past foulness, and the carnal corruptions of my soul, not because I love them, but that I may love Thee, O my God. For love of Thy love do I it, recalling, in the very bitterness of my remembrance, my most vicious ways, that Thou mayest grow sweet to me,—Thou sweetness without deception! Thou sweetness happy and assured!—and re-collecting myself out of that my dissipation, in which I was torn to pieces, while, turned away from Thee the One, I lost myself among many vanities. For I even longed in my youth formerly to be satisfied with worldly things, and I dared to grow wild again with various and shadowy loves; my form consumed away, and I became corrupt in Thine eyes, pleasing myself, and eager to please in the eyes of men.

## Footnotes

* ↑ Ps. xxxix. 11.
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series I/Volume I/Confessions/Book I/Chapter 4

Chapter IV.—The Majesty of God is Supreme, and His Virtues Inexplicable.
4. What, then, art Thou, O my God—what, I ask, but the Lord God? For who is Lord but the Lord? or who is God save our God? Most high, most excellent, most potent, most omnipotent; most piteous and most just; most hidden and most near; most beauteous and most strong, stable, yet contained of none; unchangeable, yet changing all things; never new, never old; making all things new, yet bringing old age upon the proud and they know it not; always working, yet ever at rest; gathering, yet needing nothing; sustaining, pervading, and protecting; creating, nourishing, and developing; seeking, and yet possessing all things. Thou lovest, and burnest not; art jealous, yet free from care; repentest, and hast no sorrow; art angry, yet serene; changest Thy ways, leaving unchanged Thy plans; recoverest what Thou findest, having yet never lost; art never in want, whilst Thou rejoicest in gain; never covetous, though requiring usury. That Thou mayest owe, more than enough is given to Thee; yet who hath anything that is not Thine? Thou payest debts while owing nothing; and when Thou forgivest debts, losest nothing. Yet, O my God, my life, my holy joy, what is this that I have said? And what saith any man when He speaks of Thee? Yet woe to them that keep silence, seeing that even they who say most are as the dumb.

## Footnotes

* ↑ Ps. xviii. 31.
* ↑ Matt. xxv. 27.
* ↑ Supererogatur tibi, ut debeas.
* ↑ “As it is impossible for mortal, imperfect, and perishable man to comprehend the immortal, perfect and eternal, we cannot expect that he should be able to express in praise the fulness of God’s attributes. The Talmud relates of a rabbi, who did not consider the terms, ‘the great, mighty, and fearful God,’ which occur in the daily prayer, as being sufficient, but added some more attributes—‘What!’ exclaimed another rabbi who was present, ‘imaginest thou to be able to exhaust the praise of God? Thy praise is blasphemy. Thou hadst better be quiet.’ Hence the Psalmist’s exclamation, after finding that the praises of God were inexhaustible: הלהת הּימוד ךל, ‘Silence is praise to Thee.’”—Breslau.
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series I/Volume I/Confessions/Book II/Chapter 10

Chapter X.—With God There is True Rest and Life Unchanging.
18. Who can unravel that twisted and tangled knottiness? It is foul. I hate to reflect on it. I hate to look on it. But thee do I long for, O righteousness and innocency, fair and comely to all virtuous eyes, and of a satisfaction that never palls! With thee is perfect rest, and life unchanging. He who enters into thee enters into the joy of his Lord, and shall have no fear, and shall do excellently in the most Excellent. I sank away from Thee, O my God, and I wandered too far from Thee, my stay, in my youth, and became to myself an unfruitful land.

## Footnotes

* ↑ Matt. xxv. 21.
# Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers: Series I/Volume I/Confessions/Book I/Chapter 8

Chapter VIII.—That When a Boy He Learned to Speak, Not by Any Set Method, But from the Acts and Words of His Parents.
13. Did I not, then, growing out of the state of infancy, come to boyhood, or rather did it not come to me, and succeed to infancy? Nor did my infancy depart (for whither went it?); and yet it did no longer abide, for I was no longer an infant that could not speak, but a chattering boy. I remember this, and I afterwards observed how I first learned to speak, for my elders did not teach me words in any set method, as they did letters afterwards; but myself, when I was unable to say all I wished and to whomsoever I desired, by means of the whimperings and broken utterances and various motions of my limbs, which I used to enforce my wishes, repeated the sounds in my memory by the mind, O my God, which Thou gavest me. When they called anything by name, and moved the body towards it while they spoke, I saw and gathered that the thing they wished to point out was called by the name they then uttered; and that they did mean this was made plain by the motion of the body, even by the natural language of all nations expressed by the countenance, glance of the eye, movement of other members, and by the sound of the voice indicating the affections of the mind, as it seeks, possesses, rejects, or avoids. So it was that by frequently hearing words, in duly placed sentences, I gradually gathered what things they were the signs of; and having formed my mouth to the utterance of these signs, I thereby expressed my will. Thus I exchanged with those about me the signs by which we express our wishes, and advanced deeper into the stormy fellowship of human life, depending the while on the authority of parents, and the beck of elders.

## Footnotes

* ↑ See some interesting remarks on this subject in Whately’s Logic, Int. sec. 5.
# Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse/Lines 1

LINES,
On the death of the Rev. Mr. Washburn, of Farmington, Connecticut, during a storm at midnight, while on his passage to South-Carolina, for the benefit of his health, accompanied by his wife.
THE southern gale awoke, its breath was mild,
The hoary face of mighty ocean smil'd;
Silent he lay, and o'er his breast did move
A little bark that much he seem'd to love;
He lent it favouring winds of steady force,
And bade the zephyrs waft it on its course;
So on its trackless way, it mov'd sublime,
To bear the sick man to a softer clime.
Then night came on; the humid vapours rose,
And scarce a gale would fan the dead repose;
It seem'd as if the cradled storms did rest,
As infants dream upon the mothers breast.
But when deep midnight claim'd his drear domain,
And darkly prest the sick man's couch of pain,
The prison'd winds to fearful combat leap,
And rouse the wrathful spirit of the deep,
The impatient storms arose—their sleep was past,
The thunder roar'd a hoarse and dreadful blast,
The troubled bark was tost upon the wave,
The cleaving billows shew'd a ready grave,
The lightnings blaz'd insufferably bright,
Forth rode a spirit on the wing of night;
An unseen hand was there, whose strong control,
Requir'd in that dread hour the sick man's soul,
It struggled and was gone! to hear no more
The whirlwinds sweeping, and the torrents roar,
The rending skies, the loud and troubled deep,
The agonizing friend, that wak'd to weep;
No more to shrink before the tempest's breath,
No more to linger in the pangs of death;
No more! no more! it saw a purer sphere,
Nor surging sea—nor vexing storms were there;
Before his eye a spotless region spread,
Where darkness rested not—or doubt or dread,
And sickness sigh'd not there, and mortal ills were fled.
# Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse/Morning

MORNING.
THE morning clouds afar are roll'd,  The birds awake my rest,
And see a ray of liquid gold
 Comes darting from the east.
What shall I render to the friend,
 From whom my blessings flow?
What shall I say to thee, my God,
 Whose hand supports me so?
Oh, raise my earth-born soul above,
 Bid all my pow'rs adore,
Nought can I render for thy love,
 But this request for more.
# Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse/Morning Prayer

MORNING PRAYER.
GIVER of light! who point'st the glorious sun
His destin'd way, and callest every star
Forth by its name, and causest day and night
To know their order, and to speak thy praise;
All powerful God! to whom creation sings
Her morning matins, let my mingling prayer
Rise with the chorus, while the trembling dawn
Dispels the shadows, and the damps of night.
Go forth, my soul, on high devotion's wing,
And bear thy first vows to thy Maker's ear,
E'er nature wakes, or the rejoicing sun
Looks from his chamber on the rising morn.
O thou! whose throne is in the circling Heavens,
Where the veil'd seraphs stand; thou wilt not scorn
The incense of the heart, for thou dost know
My frame, and thou rememberest I am dust.
But yet thine hand did mould this mass of clay,
And thy breath quicken it: nor should I blush
To lift my face to thee, to speak thy name,
And call thee Father, had not sin so stain'd,
Marr'd, and defac'd thy work. Still be my God,
Bend to my prayers, and send thy Spirit forth
To heal, and to enlighten, and to save.
Oh, as a parent guides and guards a child,
Oft wandering, yet belov'd, so guide thou me
This day. From inward foes, and hidden ills,
From snares of youth, from treachery of man,
Fruitless resolves, and fancies roving wild,
From vanity, and pride, and dark deceit,
Or whatsoever else might wake the sting
Of conscience, wound another's peace, or break
Thy holy law, save me this day, O God:
And let a warning voice say to my soul,
The pure and watchful eyes of the High Judge
Are on thy ways, and still a viewless pen
Moves, never weary, to record thy words,
Thy deeds, and hidden motives, on a page,
Not perishable, which the flame that burns
The scorch'd and shrinking Heavens, shall so unfold,
That every eye may read. O God, thou know'st
All my temptations, my adversities,
My weaknesses and errors; suit thy gifts
Unto my needs, and not to my deserts
Imperfect. But so guide me on this earth,
That when I leave it, I may see thy face
In peace, and sin no more. So shall my prayer
Rise ceaseless to thee; and my soul shall rest
Upon thine arm of love, through every scene
Of this day's good or ill, or life or death.
And let my song of praise, O mighty God,
Rise with acceptance from this house of clay,
This earthly tenement, soon rent and broke:
And let me on the cold, dark flood of death
Be joyful in thee: let me wake the harp
Of seraph rapture, hymning to the praise
Of Him who was, and is, and is to come,
When time shall be no more, and death shall die;
And ages after ages rolling on,
Fill not the circle of Eternity.
# Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse/Morning Thoughts

MORNING THOUGHTS.
AWAKE! awake! the rosy light
Looks through the parted veil of night
Awake! arise! short space hast thou
On earth, and much thou hast to do:
Another morn to thee is given,
Another gift from bounteous heaven
Is lent to thee, while many sleep
 To wake no more on earth again;
Is sweet to thee, while many weep,
 Deep sunk in grief, or torn with pain
Oh, spring to life! with joy renew'd,
And pour the strain of gratitude,
On bended knee, with holy fear,
With humble hope, with faith sincere.
Before the sun shall raise his head
 To smile upon the blushing day,
Or from his chamber rush to lead
 The young, and thin-rob'd dawn away.
Before the morn with tresses fair
Shall sail upon the waveless air,
Oh, let thy soul ascend as free,
Thy heart be tun'd to harmony,
And meekly to thy Maker bear,
The early vow, the early prayer,
Unstain'd with shades of earthly care.
Kneel like a suppliant at his feet,
 Yet like a child address his throne, And let an hour so calm, so sweet,
 Be sacred to thy God alone.
# Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse/Life 2

LIFE.
Life, passing like the morning ray,
Speeds swiftly on its rapid way,
And closes, with the closing day,
So pass away the generous mind,
The faultless form, the soul refin'd,
The friend sincere, the parent kind.
So pass we all: the heart must fail,
The dim eye close, the cheek turn pale,
As sinks to earth this fabric frail.
And thou, whose eye may view this line,
When low in dust my limbs recline,
Though dead, I speak, that fate is thine.
Go, seek his love, whose blood was shed,
In streams on awful Calvary's head,
Go, cleanse thee in that torrent red:
Then happy, whoso'er thou art,
If here thou stay, or hence depart,
For Christ shall bear thee on his heart.
# New Jersey P.L.1973, c.102

* information about this edition.
* related portals: New Jersey Legislature.
CHAPTER 102, LAWS OF 1973
AN ACT adding an additional member to the Clean Air Council.
BE IT ENACTED by the Senate and General Assembly of the State of New Jersey:
C.26:2C-3.2a Additional member of council. 1. In addition to the membership of the Clean Air Council prescribed by P.L.1967, c.106, s.3 (C.26:2C-3.2), the State Commissioner of Health or a member of his staff designated by him shall be a member of the council.
2. This act shall take effect immediately.
Approved May 2, 1973.
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