Portsmouth Sunday School Hymn Book: Compiled for the Use of the South Parish Sunday School

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J.W. Foster, 1840 - 165 páginas
 

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Página 180 - The dead in Christ shall first arise, At the last trumpet's sounding ; Caught up to meet Him in the skies, With joy their Lord surrounding ; No gloomy fears their souls dismay ; His presence sheds eternal day On those prepared to meet Him.
Página 165 - Could we but climb where Moses stood, And view the landscape o'er, Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood Should fright us from the shore.
Página 69 - In every joy that crowns my days, In every pain I bear, My heart shall find delight in praise, Or seek relief in prayer.
Página 181 - FROM Greenland's icy mountains, From India's coral strand, Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand ; From many an ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain.
Página 120 - 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,
Página 117 - It is finished" — hear him cry ; Learn of Jesus Christ to die. 4. Early hasten to the tomb, Where they laid His breathless clay ; All is solitude and gloom, — Who hath taken Him away ? Christ is risen ; He meets our eyes ; Saviour, teach us so to rise.
Página 167 - JERUSALEM, my happy home ! •'* Name ever dear to me ! When shall my labours have an end, In joy, and peace, and thee? 2 When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls And pearly gates behold ? Thy bulwarks, with salvation strong, And streets of shining gold...
Página 183 - 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.
Página 105 - 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.

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