Hymns of the Ages

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J. R. Osgood, 1877 - Hymns
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Page 164 - What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power? Who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be? Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me. I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless: Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness. Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory? I triumph still, if thou abide with me.
Page 59 - Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Page 171 - Though long the weary way we tread, And sorrow crown each lingering year, No path we shun, no darkness dread, Our hearts still whispering, Thou art near...
Page 33 - How oft do they their silver bowers leave To come to succour us, that succour want ? How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant Against foul fiends, to aid us militant? They for us fight, they watch and duly ward, And their bright squadrons round about us plant, And all for love and nothing for reward, O why should heavenly God to men have such regard *." This agrees with what is recorded of St.
Page 226 - To me remains nor place nor time ; My country is in every clime ; I can be calm and free from care On any shore, since God is there.
Page 162 - Our emptiness and woe ; And lead us in those paths of life Where all the righteous go. 3 Come as the fire ! and purge our hearts Like sacrificial flame ; Let our whole soul an offering be To our Redeemer's name. 4 Come as the dew ! and sweetly blesa This consecrated hour ; May barrenness rejoice to own Thy fertilizing power.
Page 102 - Whate'er my God ordains is right. He never will deceive ; He leads me by the proper path. And so to Him I cleave, And take content What He hath sent ; His hand can turn my griefs away, And patiently I wait His day.
Page 163 - ABIDE with me ! fast falls the eventide ; The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide : When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me ! 2.
Page 21 - Give me my scallop-shell of quiet, My staff of faith to walk upon. My scrip of joy, immortal diet, My bottle of salvation, My gown of glory, hope's true gage; And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
Page 300 - The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made: Stronger by weakness, wiser men become As they draw near to their eternal home. Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view That stand upon the threshold of the new.

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