Sacred Lays and Lyrics

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Seeleys, 1850 - Christian poetry, English - 326 pages
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Page 23 - A rebel to a child. It tells of joys to come ; It soothes the troubled breast ; It shines, a star amid the storm, — The harbinger of rest. Then murmur not, nor mourn, My people faint and few : Though earth to its foundation shake...
Page 218 - His ransom'd bride. How strong is heavenly Love ! Stronger than aught below ; Though wide and wild my passions rove, I will not let Him go! What though I see Him not, I feel the ardour burn ; He hath for me the victory wrought ; I love Him in return. How sweet is heavenly Love ! 'Tis all in all to me...
Page 22 - Tis not fall'n nature's sleep, The stupor of the soul, That knows not God, nor owns His hand, Though wide His thunders roll.
Page 18 - Tis grace alone can mould the heart This gentle power to prove — 'Tis grace alone can grace impart, And teach the soul to love. O Thou, who art the Source and Spring, Of our new nature's birth, Love brought Thee down, that Thou might'st bring Love to this wretched earth. Light Thou my torch by Thine own flame ; So shall it ever glow, A light to mark from whence it came, Thro
Page 23 - It tells of joys to come ; It soothes the troubled breast ; It shines, a star amid the storm, — The harbinger of rest. Then murmur not, nor mourn, My people faint and few : Though earth to its foundation shake, My peace I leave with you.
Page 23 - Tis not the sleep of death, Low in the darksome grave, Where the worm spreads its couch and feeds, No hand put forth to save. It speaks a ransom'd world, A Father reconciled, A sinner to a saint transform'd, A rebel to a child.
Page 90 - From the south to the north, from the west to the east, These brothers are welcomed by man and by beast.
Page 103 - Though they cannot triumph over death, with old Simeon, having Christ in his arms, and saying, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word : for mine eyes have seen thy salvation," Luke ii. 29, 30 ; yet they can say with dying Jacob, "I have waited for thy salvation, O Lord,
Page 146 - mong the dead ? 'Tis but the dust that slumbers here, The life is with the spirit fled To some bright sphere. Let Death his triumphs vaunt in might, Spread his cold couch for them that lie, The soul that wings its heavenward flight Can never die.
Page 266 - Hath bound me with His covenant-bond, a purchase bought by blood, And charged each thing that wrought me ill, now work my endless good. Thus storm and vollied thunderings with the light'ning's forked fire, Are but His hand to smite the chords of the heart's secret lyre...

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