Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men,Verily I say unto you,They have their reward.But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth:That thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly.
For if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself to the battle?
Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, In a moment, in the twinkling of aneye, atthelasttrump: for thetrumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.
I was in the Spirit on the Lord's day, and heard behind me a great voice, as of a trumpet, Saying, I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last: and, What thou seest, write in a book, and send it unto the seven churches which are in Asia.
When they talked of their Raphaels,Correggios, and stuff, He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff.
But thisnovel wasnot a trumpet for Women's Liberation. It described many female emotions of aggression, hostility, resentment. It put them into print. Apparently what many women were thinking, feeling, experiencing came as a great surprise.
Proudly the note of the trumpet is sounding, Loudly the war-cries arise on the gale, Fleetly the steed by Loc Suilig is bounding To join the thick squadrons in Saimear's green vale. On, every mountaineer, Strangers to flight and fear: Rush to the standard of dauntless Red Hugh! Bonnought and gallowglass, Throng from each mountain-pass! On for old ErinO'Donnell abu!
Let us pick up again these lost strands and weave them again into the fabric of Americasort out the music from the sounds and again respond to the trumpet and the steady drum.
And, by the incarnation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened earth The trumpet of a prophecy! O,Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
The merry cuckoo, messenger of Spring, His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.
Blow trumpet, for the world is white with May.
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