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adore almighty angels Behold Bless'd blessings blest bliss boundless bounty breast breath chearful Christ Common Metre creatures crowns death divine dust earth eternal ev'ning everlasting exalted eyes faith Father Father divine fear feeble form'd frame gloomy glorious name glory grateful hand happy hath heart heav'n heav'nly hell holy honour hope Hope of Heaven humble humble souls Hymn Hymn immortal Jehovah Jesus join joyful king Let ev'ry light lives Long Metre Maker morning mortal night nobler o'er peace pray'r proclaim Psalm raise reigns rise round sacred saints salvation Saviour shine Short Metre silent sing skies smile songs songs of praise soul sov'reign spread stand sweet day thee thine thou art thoughts thousand thro thy command thy grace thy love Thy mercy thy name thy pow'r thy praise thy throne tongue voice wisdom wond'rous worlds worlds unknown ye saints zeal
Page 118 - If I am right, thy grace impart, Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, oh teach my heart To find that better way...
Page 11 - To all my weak complaints and cries Thy mercy lent an ear, Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt To form themselves in prayer.
Page 74 - 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,
Page 118 - What conscience dictates to be done. Or warns me not to do, This teach me more than Hell to shun, That more than Heaven pursue.
Page 185 - With grateful hearts the past we own ; The future, all to us unknown, We to thy guardian care commit, And peaceful leave before thy feet.
Page 80 - MY dear Redeemer and my Lord, I read my duty in thy word ; But in thy life the law appears Drawn out in living characters. 2 Such was thy truth, and such thy zeal, Such deference to thy Father's will, Such love, and meekness so divine, I would transcribe and make them mine.
Page 157 - If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies; And they are fools who roam : The world has nothing to bestow ; From our own selves our joys must flow, And that dear hut, our home.
Page 13 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.