A Collection of Hymns in the Oneida Language: For the Use of Native ChristiansWesleyan Missionary Society, 1855 - 245 páginas |
Pasajes populares
Página 2 - Jesus ! the Name that charms our fears, That bids our sorrows cease ; 'Tis music in the sinner's ears ; Tis life, and health, and peace.
Página 44 - And melt mine eyes to tears. 5 But drops of grief can ne'er repay The debt of love I owe : Here, Lord, I give myself away, — 'Tis all that I can do.
Página 58 - 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 64 - Must I be carried to the skies On flowery beds of ease, While others fought to win the prize, And sailed through bloody seas?
Página 56 - I'll praise him while he lends me breath, And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall employ my nobler powers ; My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last, Or immortality endures.
Página 82 - Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning Providence He hides a smiling face.
Página 6 - COME, ye sinners, poor and wretched, Weak and wounded, sick and sore, Jesus ready stands to save you, Full of pity, love and power : He is able, He is willing ; doubt no more.
Página 48 - I'm constrained to be! Let Thy goodness, like a fetter, Bind my wandering heart to Thee. Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, Prone to leave the God I love; Here's my heart, oh, take and seal it, Seal it for Thy courts above.
Página 8 - The gladly solemn sound, Let all the nations know, To earth's remotest bound, The year of Jubilee is come: Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home.
Página 64 - 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...