Gleanings from the sacred poets, with biogr. notices of the authors1882 |
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Strona xv
... Jesus , my Saviour , Look on Me , 362 SARAH MILES . Thou , who didst Stoop Below , HENRY DOWNTON . Harp , Awake ! . ANNE LAETITIA WARING . My Times are in Thy Hand , 363 364 365 C. H. SPURGEON . Sweetly the Holy Hymn , MISCELLANEOUS.
... Jesus , my Saviour , Look on Me , 362 SARAH MILES . Thou , who didst Stoop Below , HENRY DOWNTON . Harp , Awake ! . ANNE LAETITIA WARING . My Times are in Thy Hand , 363 364 365 C. H. SPURGEON . Sweetly the Holy Hymn , MISCELLANEOUS.
Strona 46
... looks , As he should do , aright , shall never need Wish for a better light To guide him in the night . Or , when he hungry is , for better food To feed upon , Than this alone , If he bring stomach and digestion good ; And if he be ...
... looks , As he should do , aright , shall never need Wish for a better light To guide him in the night . Or , when he hungry is , for better food To feed upon , Than this alone , If he bring stomach and digestion good ; And if he be ...
Strona 47
... looks Angry at this expression , as too bold , His thoughts in silence smother , Till he find such another . THE TEMPER . 47 How should I praise Thee , Lord ! how should my rymes Gladly engrave Thy love on steel , If what my soul doth ...
... looks Angry at this expression , as too bold , His thoughts in silence smother , Till he find such another . THE TEMPER . 47 How should I praise Thee , Lord ! how should my rymes Gladly engrave Thy love on steel , If what my soul doth ...
Strona 60
... Look not behind thee . SUBMISSION TO THE WILL OF GOD My Lord hath taught me how to want A place wherein to put my head ; While He is mine I'll be content To beg , or lack my daily bread . Heaven is my roof , earth is my floor- Thy love ...
... Look not behind thee . SUBMISSION TO THE WILL OF GOD My Lord hath taught me how to want A place wherein to put my head ; While He is mine I'll be content To beg , or lack my daily bread . Heaven is my roof , earth is my floor- Thy love ...
Strona 61
... brightly there Than they did in their sphere . On a tall pyramid's pointed head he stopp'd at last , And a mild look of sacred pity cast Down on the sinful land where he was sent , ABRAHAM COWLEY, 1618-1667 Destruction of the First-born,
... brightly there Than they did in their sphere . On a tall pyramid's pointed head he stopp'd at last , And a mild look of sacred pity cast Down on the sinful land where he was sent , ABRAHAM COWLEY, 1618-1667 Destruction of the First-born,
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adore afterwards angels appointed art thou became behold beneath bless blest born breast breath bright Christ Church dark DAVID MACBETH MOIR death didst died divine doth dwell earth educated EDWARD BICKERSTETH eternal everlasting faith father fear flowers foes GEORGE MOGRIDGE GERHARD TERSTEEGEN glad glorious glory grief hand hath hear heart heaven heavenly HENRY HART MILMAN holy hope hour hymns Jesus John JOHN KEBLE King Lamb of God life's light live London Lord mercy minister morning mortal ne'er night o'er pain peace poems poetry praise pray prayer prose published reign rest RICHARD KEMPENFELT ROBERT MURRAY M'CHEYNE sacred saints Saviour shine sing sinners skies sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit stars streams sweet tears Thee Thine Thou art Thou hast Thou wilt thought throne Thy love Trinity College voice wandering weary Westminster School wings word
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 215 - The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
Strona 219 - Thy will be done." Should pining sickness waste away My life in premature decay, My Father ! still I strive to s,ty, " Thy will be done." If but my fainting heart be blest With thy sweet Spirit for its guest, My God ! to thee I leave the rest,
Strona 131 - SWEET the moments, rich in blessing, Which before the cross I spend ; Life, and health, and peace possessing, From the sinner's dying Friend, Here I'll sit for ever viewing, Mercy's streams in streams of blood, Precious drops my soul bedewing, Plead and claim my peace with God.
Strona 156 - The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high ; Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or, how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; Or, Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry ; Or, rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Strona 252 - THOU art the Way : — to thee alone From sin and death we flee ; And he who would the Father seek, Must seek him, Lord, by thee. 2 Thou art the Truth : — thy word alone True wisdom can impart; Thou only canst inform the mind, And purify the heart. 3 Thou art the Life :— the rending tomb Proclaims thy conquering arm ; And those who put their trust in thee Nor death nor hell shall harm. 4 Thou art the Way...
Strona 268 - Whose portal we call Death. She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule.
Strona 326 - 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!
Strona 54 - Our lingering parents, and to the eastern gate Led them direct, and down the cliff as fast To the subjected plain; then disappear'd. They looking back all th...
Strona 267 - saith he ; " Have nought but the bearded grain ? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. " My Lord has need of these flowerets gay...
Strona 192 - BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning, dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid; star of the east, the horizon adorning, guide where our infant Redeemer is laid. Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining; low lies his head with the beasts of the stall; angels adore him in slumber reclining, Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all.