The Poetical Works of Reginald Heber

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Little, Brown, 1853 - 324 páginas
 

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Página 91 - Thou art gone to the grave ; but we will not deplore thee, Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian, and guide ; He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore thee; And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died.
Página 310 - And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. 'And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it; for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.
Página 310 - And he carried me away in the spirit to a great and high mountain, and shewed me that great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God, having the glory of God...
Página 69 - Holy, holy, holy, though the darkness hide thee, Though the eye of sinful man thy glory may not see, Only thou art holy, there is none beside thee, Perfect in power, in love, and purity. 4 Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty...
Página 48 - The martyr first, whose eagle eye Could pierce beyond the grave, Who saw his Master in the sky And called on Him to save ; Like Him, with pardon on his tongue In midst of mortal pain...
Página 51 - 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 ! FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.
Página 289 - O'er Gunga's mimic sea ! I miss thee at the dawning gray, When, on our deck reclined, In careless ease my limbs I lay, And woo the cooler wind. I miss thee when by Gunga's stream My twilight steps I guide, But most beneath the lamp's pale beam, I miss thee from my side.
Página 87 - Waft, waft, ye winds, His story, And you, ye waters, roll, Till, like a sea of glory, It spreads from pole to pole ; Till o'er our ransomed nature The Lamb for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign.
Página 292 - Mid Nature's embers, parched and dry, Where o'er some tower in ruin laid, The peepul spreads its haunted shade ; Or round a tomb his scales to wreathe, Fit warder in the gate of death ! Come on ! Yet pause! behold us now Beneath the bamboo's arched bough...
Página 68 - HOLY, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee . Holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty ! God in three persons, blessed Trinity. Holy, holy, holy, all the saints adore thee, Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea ; Cherubim and seraphim falling down before thee, Which wert and art and evermore shalt be.

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