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Стр. 112 - Holy, holy, holy ! though the darkness hide Thee, Though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may not see, Only Thou art holy, there is none beside Thee, Perfect in power, in love, and purity. 4 Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty...
Стр. 88 - The martyr first, whose eagle eye Could pierce beyond the grave, Who saw his Master in the sky, And called on Him to save. " Like Him, with pardon on His tongue, In midst of mortal pain, He prayed for them that did the wrong ; Who follows in His train...
Стр. 139 - FROM Greenland's icy mountains, From India's coral strand; Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand; From many an ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain.
Стр. 95 - BY cool Siloam's shady rill, How sweet the lily grows ! How sweet the breath beneath the hill Of Sharon's dewy rose ! 2 Lo ! such the child whose early feet The paths of peace have trod ; Whose secret heart, with influence sweet, Is upward drawn to God...
Стр. 140 - Waft, waft, ye winds, his story, And you, ye waters, roll, Till, like a sea of glory, It spreads from pole to pole ; Till o'er our ransomed nature, The Lamb for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign ! HEBEK.
Стр. 142 - BREAD of the world, in mercy broken, Wine of the soul, in mercy shed, By Whom th.e words of life were spoken, And in Whose death our sins are dead ; 2 Look on the heart by sorrow broken, Look on the tears by sinners shed ; And be Thy feast to us the token That by Thy grace our souls are fed.
Стр. 81 - Hosanna to the incarnate Word ! To Christ, Creator, Saviour, King, Let earth, let heaven, hosanna sing. 2 " Hosanna, Lord ! " thine angels cry. " Hosanna, Lord ! " thy saints reply; Above, beneath us, and around.
Стр. 82 - So in the last and dreadful day. When earth and heaven shall melt away, Thy flock, redeemed from sinful stain, Shall swell the sound of praise again, Hosanna, Lord, Hosanna in the highest.
Стр. 93 - His head with the beasts of the stall : Angels adore Him in slumber reclining, Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all.
Стр. 139 - What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle; Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile : In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown : The heathen, in his blindness, Bows down to wood and stone.

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