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A-men adore Alleluia Amen angels bear bless blest blood bright bring Christ Church comes Cross crown dark dear death divine dwell earth eternal eyes face faith fall Father fear feet flow Friend give glad glorious glory grace Grant hand hath hear heart heaven heavenly HENRY Holy hope hour Hymn Jesus John keep King land Lead lift light live Lord morning Name never night o'er pain path peace praise pray prayer pure raise reign rest rise saints Saviour seek shine sight sing skies song sorrow soul Spirit stand stars strength sweet tell Thee Thine things Thou art Thou hast thought thro throne Thy love true trust truth Tune voice
Стр. 37 - His sovereign power, without our aid, Made us of clay, and formed us men ; And when, like wandering sheep, we strayed, He brought us to his fold again.
Стр. 331 - Thou, O Christ, art all I want, More than all in thee I find ! Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, Heal the sick, and lead the blind ; Just and holy is thy name, I am all unrighteousness ; False and full of sin I am, Thou art full of truth and grace.
Стр. 374 - I'd be Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to Thee. 3 There let the way appear Steps unto Heaven; All that thou sendest me In mercy given; Angels to beckon me Nearer, my God, to thee...
Стр. 375 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
Стр. 230 - He shall come down like showers Upon the fruitful earth, And love, joy, hope, like flowers, Spring in his path to birth: Before him on the mountains Shall peace the herald go; And righteousness in fountains From hill to valley flow.
Стр. 487 - As the winged arrow flies, Speedily the mark to find ; As the lightning from the skies Darts, and leaves no trace behind ; Swiftly thus our fleeting days Bear us down life's rapid stream.
Стр. 236 - 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.
Стр. 408 - Here in the body pent, Absent from Him I roam, Yet nightly pitch my moving tent A day's march nearer home.