The English Hymn Book

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London: Hudson & Son: Birmingham, 1874

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Стр. 556 - The world recedes ; it disappears ! Heaven opens on my eyes ! my ears With sounds seraphic ring ! Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! O grave, where is thy victory ? O death, where is thy sting ? MAN SHOULD STUDY HIMSELF, AND NOT PRY INTO GOD.
Стр. 83 - Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take ; The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.
Стр. 239 - COME, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove ! With all thy quickening powers, Kindle a flame of sacred love In these cold hearts of ours. 2 Look ! how we grovel here below, Fond of these trifling toys ! Our souls can neither fly nor go To reach eternal joys. 3 In vain we tune our formal songs; In vain we strive to rise ; Hosannas languish on our tongues, And our devotion dies.
Стр. 198 - Dear dying Lamb ! Thy precious blood Shall never lose its power, Till all the ransomed church of God Be saved, to sin no more. 4 E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream, Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming love has been my theme, And shall be till I die.
Стр. 337 - 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, Nearer to thee!
Стр. 198 - THERE is a fountain filled with blood, Drawn from Immanuel's veins ; And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains. 2 The dying thief rejoiced to see That fountain in his day ; And there may I, though vile as he, Wash all my sins away.
Стр. 550 - HOW blest the righteous when he dies ! When sinks a weary soul to rest, How mildly beam the closing eyes, How gently heaves the expiring breast! 2 So fades a summer cloud away, So sinks the gale when storms are o'er : So gently shuts the eye of day, So dies a wave along the shore.
Стр. 641 - Gethsemane can I forget? Or there thy conflict see, Thine agony and bloody sweat, And not remember thee ? 4 When to the cross I turn mine eyes, And rest on Calvary, O Lamb of God, my sacrifice! I must remember thee: — 5 Remember thee, and all thy pains, And all thy love to me; Yea, while a breath, a pulse remains, Will I remember thee.
Стр. 83 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ : Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.
Стр. 695 - Abide with me from morn till eve, For without Thee I cannot live ; Abide with me when night is nigh, For without Thee I dare not die.

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