Hymn and Tune Book for the Church and the Home

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American Unitarian Association, 1882 - 398 páginas

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Página 305 - So fades a summer cloud a-way, So sinks the gale when storms are o'er, So gently shuts the eye of day, So dies a wave along the shore.
Página 149 - 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.
Página 159 - twere not in joy to charm me, Were that joy unmixed with Thee. Soul, then know thy full salvation, Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care; Joy to find in every station Something still to do or bear.
Página 201 - 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 256 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Página 130 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near. Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try, Prayer the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high. Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air, His watchword at the gates of death ; He enters heaven with prayer. Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice, Returning from his ways ; While angels in their songs rejoice, And cry,
Página 252 - His gate. 2 Let all your lamps be bright, And trim the golden flame ; Gird up your loins, as in His sight, For awful is His Name. 3 Watch: 'tis your Lord's command, And while we speak, He's near; Mark the first signal of His hand, And ready all appear.
Página 3 - BEFORE Jehovah's awful throne, Ye nations, bow with sacred joy! Know that the Lord is God alone : He can create, and he destroy.
Página 201 - What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle; Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile : In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown : The heathen, in his blindness, Bows down to wood and stone.
Página 82 - THERE is a book, who runs may read, Which heavenly truth imparts, And all the lore its scholars need, Pure eyes and Christian hearts. The works of God above, below, Within us and around, Are pages in that book, to show How God Himself is found.

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