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Стр. 149 - For I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me not in; naked, and ye clothed me not; sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not.
Стр. 281 - 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. 3 Shall we, whose souls are lighted With wisdom from on high, Shall we, to men benighted, The lamp of life deny?
Стр. 280 - 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. 2 What though the spicy breezes Blow 'soft o'er Ceylon's isle — Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile...
Стр. 197 - Blow ye the trumpet in Zion, and sound an alarm in my holy mountain : let all the inhabitants of the land tremble : for the day of the Lord cometh, for it is nigh at hand...
Стр. 282 - Kingdoms wide that sit in darkness, Grant them, Lord, the glorious light; And from eastern coast to western, May the morning chase the night, And redemption, Freely purchased, win the day.
Стр. 160 - And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels, and prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in heaven. And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.
Стр. 281 - O'ER the gloomy hills of darkness, Look, my soul, be still and gaze ; All the promises do travail With a glorious day of grace. Blessed jubilee, Let thy glorious morning dawn.
Стр. 170 - Great is the work !" my neighbors cried, And owned the power divine ; " Great is the work!" my heart replied, " And be the glory thine." 4 The Lord can clear the darkest skies, Can give us day for night; Make drops of sacred sorrow rise To rivers of delight.