Psalms and hymns, adapted to public worship

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publ. for the General Assembly by S. Allen, 1833 - 669
 

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Strona 149 - A thousand ages in Thy sight Are like an evening gone ; Short as the watch that ends the night Before the rising sun. 5 Time, like an ever-rolling stream, Bears all its sons away ; They fly forgotten, as a dream Dies at the opening day...
Strona 608 - Hark ! they whisper ; angels say, " Sister spirit, come away ! " What is this absorbs me quite ? Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my...
Strona 289 - COME, let us join our cheerful songs, With angels round the throne ; Ten thousand thousand are their tongues, But all their joys are one. 2 "Worthy the Lamb that died"— they cry, "To be exalted thus :"— "Worthy the Lamb"— our lips reply,
Strona 412 - OH ! for a closer walk with God, A calm and heavenly frame ; A light to shine upon the road That leads me to the Lamb...
Strona 470 - Nothing in my hand I bring; Simply to thy cross I cling ; Naked, come to thee for dress ; Helpless, look to thee for grace ; Foul, I to the fountain fly ; Wash me, Saviour, or I die.
Strona 396 - GUIDE me, O thou great Jehovah, Pilgrim through this barren land ; I am weak, but thou art mighty, Hold me with thy powerful hand : Bread of heaven, Feed me, till I want no more.
Strona 352 - THERE is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign ; Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain. 2 There everlasting spring abides, And never withering flowers ; Death, like a narrow sea, divides This heavenly land from ours.
Strona 411 - COME, thou Fount of every blessing, Tune my heart to sing thy grace ; Streams of mercy never ceasing, Call for songs of loudest praise...
Strona 397 - And works his sovereign, will. 3 Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take ; The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head. 4 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace ; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.
Strona 536 - 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.

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