Imágenes de páginas


"Unto Him who hath loved us"

THERE is no love like the love of Jesus,
Never to fade or fall,
Till into the fold of the peace of God
He has gathered us all!

There is no heart like the heart of Jesus

Filled with a tender lore;
Not a throb or throe our hearts can know

But He suffered before!

There is no eye like the eye of Jesus

Piercing far away;
Never out of the sight of its tender light

Can the wanderer stray!

There is no voice like the voice of Jesus,

Ah ! how sweet its chime,
Like the musical ring of some rushing spring

In the summer-time!

O might we listen that voice of Jesus,

O might we never roam, Till our souls should rest, in peace, on His breast,

In the Heavenly home!

W. E. Littlewood

"I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life"

COME, my way, my truth, my life:
Such a way, as gives us breath:
Such a truth, as ends all strife:
Such a life, as killeth death.

Come, my light, my feast, my strength:
Such a light, as shows a feast:
Such a feast, as mends in length:
Such a strength, as makes his guest .

Come, my joy, my love, my heart:
Such a joy as none can move:
Such a love, as none can part:
Such a heart, as joys in love.

G. Herbert



"We've no abiding city here"

WE 've no abiding city here:
This may distress the worldling's mind;
But should not cost the saint a tear,
Who hopes a better rest to find.

We Ve no abiding city here:

Sad truth, were this to be our home!

But let this thought our spirits cheer;
We seek a city yet to come.

We 've no abiding city here:

Then let us live as pilgrims do! Let not the world our rest appear,

But let us haste from all below.

We've no abiding city here:

We seek a city out of sight; Zion its name, the Lord is there, . It shines with everlasting light!

Zion! Jehovah is her strength;

Secure she smiles at all her foes; And weary travellers at length

Within her sacred walls repose.

O! sweet abode of peace and love,

Where pilgrims freed from toil are blest!

Had I the pinions of a dove,
I 'd flee away, and be at rest!

T. Kelly

LXXXIII "A fountain opened for sin and for uncleanness'

THERE is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Emmanuel's veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see

That fountain in His day;
And there would I, as vile as he,

Wash all my sins away.

Dear dying Lamb! Thy precious Blood

Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransomed church of God

Be saved, to sin no more.

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.

Then in a nobler, sweeter song

I'll sing Thy power to save,
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue

Lies silent in the grave.

Lord, I believe Thou hast prepared,

Unworthy though I be,
For me a blood-bought free reward,

A golden harp for me:

'T is strung and tuned for endless years,

And formed by power divine,
To sound in God the Father's ears,

No other name but Thine.

IV. Cawper


CHRIST'S CHURCH UNIVERSAL 'My Name shall be great among the Gentiles'1'

YES, so it was ere Jesus came;
Alternate then His altar-flame

Blazed up and died away;
And Silence took her turn with song,
And Solitude with the fair throng

That owned the festal day.
For in Earth's daily circuit then

One only border
Reflected to the seraph's ken

Heaven's light and order.

But now to the revolving sphere
We point, and say, no desert here,

No waste so dark and lone,
But to the hour of sacrifice
Comes daily in its turn, and lies

In light beneath the throne.
Each point of time, from morn to eve,

From eve to morning,
The shrine doth from the spouse receive

Praise and adorning.

J. Keblc

« AnteriorContinuar »