Divine Hymns, Or, Spiritual Songs: For the Use of Religious Assemblies, and Private Christians : Being Formerly a Collection

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Russell Hubbard, 1811 - 199
 

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Strona 63 - Sinners, whose love can ne'er forget The wormwood and the gall, Go, spread your trophies at His feet, And crown Him Lord of all.
Strona 26 - Tis a point I long to know, Oft it causes anxious thought ; Do I love the Lord, or no? Am I his, or am I not?
Strona 86 - Restraining prayer, we cease to fight ; Prayer makes the Christian's armour bright : And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.
Strona 115 - And feed me with a Shepherd's care; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye ; My noon-day walks he shall attend, And all my midnight hours defend.
Strona 65 - HOW firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord, Is laid for your faith in his excellent word ! What more can he say than to you he hath said, You who unto Jesus for refuge have fled...
Strona 133 - Should earth against my soul engage, And hellish darts be hurled, Then I can smile at Satan's rage, And face a frowning world. 3 Let cares like a wild deluge come, And storms of sorrow fall ; May I but safely reach my home, My God, my heaven, my all : 4 There shall I bathe my weary soul, In seas of heavenly rest, And not a wave of trouble roll Across my peaceful breast.
Strona 90 - Other refuge have I none, — Hangs my helpless soul on Thee ; Leave, ah ! leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me ! All my trust on Thee is stayed, All my help from Thee I bring ; Cover my defenceless head With the shadow of Thy wing. 3 Thou, O Christ, art all I want ; More than all in Thee I find ; liaise the fallen, cheer the faint, Heal the sick, and lead the blind.
Strona 69 - Ashamed of Jesus! yes, I may When I've no guilt to wash away, No tear to wipe, no good to crave, No fears to quell, no soul to save. 6 Till then — nor is my boasting vain — Till then I boast a Saviour slain; And O may this my glory be, That Christ is not ashamed of me.
Strona 102 - When by the dreadful tempest borne High on the broken wave, They know Thou art not slow to hear, Nor impotent to save. 4 The storm is laid, the winds retire, Obedient to Thy will ; The sea, that roars at Thy command, At Thy command is still.
Strona 64 - The Lord will provide." 2 The birds, without barn or store-house, are fed ; From them let us learn to trust for our bread : His saints what is fitting shall ne'er be denied, So long as 'tis written,

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