| Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. |
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| King of the Universe, who hast sanctified us with Thy commandments, and commanded us to kindle the light of Chanukah. |
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| Be it yours to lie passive in His hands, saying in unmurmuring resignation, Father, glorify Thy name! |
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| Behold, my days are as a handbreadth before Thee, and my life as nothing in Thy sight. |
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| Thy father hath given the cloak to me, wherefore then hast thou cut it atwain? |
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| Withhold not Thy countenance from the tears and beseechings of the woebegone. |
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| I come to say that I see that Thy will is my sanctification, and there alone I would seek it. |
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| Help us to see Thy name on blessings that we never recognized, so that we may now be praiseful where we have been indifferent. |
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| Thy father is an old man like me, but he hopes one day to see thee come back with great glory from Ilion. |
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| Implant in my heart the accomplishment of Thy precepts, the abandonment of evil deeds and the obtainment of Thy blessings. |
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| Thy nature, Wampanoag, is not equal to comprehend the motives which have led us hither, and our discourse is getting vain. |
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| Thy heart, also, will be kindled, like those of the other votaries of eblis. |
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| Thy heart, also, will be kindled like those of the other votaries of eblis. |
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| Thy strong command is proclaimed on earth, and the Anunnaki kiss the ground. |
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| Thy life has left thee, to live in the heart of a daughter of the charnel and the worm. |
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| What raised Antipater the Edomite, And his son Herod placed on Juda's throne, Thy throne, but gold, that got him puissant friends? |
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| We bring our follies and our greeds, and cast them at Thy feet. |
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| Thy servant was keeping watch over his masters, and smoking his chillum. |
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| Thy ready wit the word will soon supply, May its approval beam in that soft eye! |
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| Through paths unknown Thy soul hath flown, To seek the realms of woe, Where fiery pain Shall purge the stain Of actions done below. |
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| Thy cousin's younger brother owes my father's cousin something yet on his daughter's marriage-feast,' said the woman crisply. |
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| Thy memory will be an execration to the third and fourth generation. |
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| Thy body, I sweare by the holye rood, Shall hang on the gallows tree. |
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| Thy penitents, father, have made a long shrift it is the better for them, since it is the last they shall ever make. |
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| Thy keen mind pleases me the longer the better, Beowulf loved! |
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| Whence and what art thou, execrable shape, That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance Thy miscreated Front athwart my way To yonder Gates? |
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| Jesu, in Thy dear love behold, And set this soul in Thy safe fold. |
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| My God, Thou has sent Thy fires upon me EZ a sweepin' flood. |
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| How often the fleshly mind has usurped His place in Thy worship! |
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| Thy pompous delicacies I contemn, And count thy specious gifts no gifts, but guiles. |
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| Rise my soul, strain every nerve, Thy morgage to remove, Gain thy mother's heartfelt thanks Thy family's grateful love. |
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| Count not Thy handmaid for a daughter of Belial, wherever she is this day. |
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| Hast Thou not said that whatsoe'er is done Unto Thy weakest and Thy humblest one Is even done to Thee? |
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| Thy throne is mortised with their bones, cemented with their blood. |
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| Into Thy hands I commend my body and soul, and all that is mine. |
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| Thy cheeks are beautiful as the turtledove's, thy neck as jewels. |
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| Thy fall may last a million ons, but thou shalt die at last. |
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| Thy Holy Spirit can maintain this oneness without interruption. |
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| Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,And all thy hues were born in heaven. |
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| O for to be the happy fair Thy mighty arms enfold, Or even sit beside thy bed And scratch thy dusty poll! |
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| Thy wife or thy daughter, that Eastern houri that thou lockest under thy arm as thou wouldst thy treasure-casket? |
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| My soul, from this strait prison-house set free, As o'er the Stygian lake it floats along, Thy praises singing still shall hold its way, And make the waters of oblivion stay. |
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| Brave Woman, Yet In Years A Child, Dark Death Closed Here Thy Heavenwood Flight God Grant, Thee Pure And Undefiled, To Reach At Last The Light Of Light. |
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| In place of Thy curse or anger descending on me I seek the refulgence of Thy face which dispels all darkness, and which sets right all worldly affairs. |
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| Thy cunning may soon swell out once more thy shrivelled purse, but neither leech nor medicine can restore thy scorched hide and flesh wert thou once stretched on these bars. |
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| Why shouldst thou now unpleasant be, Thy wrath against God venting, That He a little bird made thee, Thy silly head tormenting, Because He made thee not a man? |
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| For, though it be to solitudes remote The hoarse vague echoes of my sorrows sound Thy matchless cruelty, my dismal fate Shall carry them to all the spacious world. |
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| For should Man finally be lost, should Man Thy creature late so lov'd, thy youngest Son Fall circumvented thus by fraud, though joynd With his own folly? |
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| And reck'n'st thou thy self with Spirits of Heav'n, Hell-doomd, and breath'st defiance here and scorn, Where I reign King, and to enrage thee more, Thy King and Lord? |
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