![](http://www.alamy.com/thumbs/6/416BD0A7-B4F7-4D42-945F-5079A2E9B475/2AWG731.jpg)
Man, the microcosm . o the true : 78 THE MICROCOSM. Even though it make old science obsolete,It with a thousand welcomes still you greet. Knowledge is power, and here tis power to save,A power like Gods to rescue from the Year adds something—many things ye knowYour sires knew not a Hundred Years grown to more, your sons will higher climb,And make the Coming Centuries sublime ;Till Christs Millennial Kingdom shall begin,And put an end to sickness and to of the Future ! breezy with the breathOf vernal quickening to the fields of Death,In the far distance of the lon
Man, the microcosm . o the true : 78 THE MICROCOSM. Even though it make old science obsolete,It with a thousand welcomes still you greet. Knowledge is power, and here tis power to save,A power like Gods to rescue from the Year adds something—many things ye knowYour sires knew not a Hundred Years grown to more, your sons will higher climb,And make the Coming Centuries sublime ;Till Christs Millennial Kingdom shall begin,And put an end to sickness and to of the Future ! breezy with the breathOf vernal quickening to the fields of Death,In the far distance of the long before,We think we see your misty summits soar ;Though scarce distinguished from the mingling skies,How glad the sight to our believing eyes ! Sphitual Maladies—Christ the Great Physician. Ah ! there are maladies beyond your skill ;You cannot cure depravity of will;You cannot mend a moral nature a mind at enmity with God ;You cannot terminate the inward strife,Restore the broken harmonv of life ;. A. E^ SELIGMAN HOTO. DR. E. ALBERT. Prof. Theodor Billroth, M. MsClinical Assistants, Vienna THE MICROCOSM. 79 With all th armentarium of ArtRestrain the outflow of an evil heart ;Cleanse by detergent washings of the skinTh immedicable leprosy of sin ;Remove the lunacy that chooses death,And imprecates destruction with each came the Great Physician of the Skies,To find a remedy that should twas not in mineral or wood,He sought it in a Pharmacy of Blood ;And since none other but His own was pure,He transfused that to consummate the curing when past cure—content to giveHimself to die to make His patient live. Death—Immortality. Death spreads, no more—a black and wrathful cloudThe smiling infinite of heaven to shroud—A harmless mist, instead, divinely brightWith dewy splendors of the morning lightThat scarcely serves th eternal world to loved ones gone before in bliss abide. WORKS OF ABRAHAM COLES, , L
Size: 1379px × 1813px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookidmanmicrocosm, bookyear1892