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adore Almighty angels Behold bids bless bless'd blest bliss blood breath bright Charmouth cheerful Christ crown darkness dear death delight Devizes divine dreadful dust dwell dying earth endless eternal everlasting everlasting song eyes faith Father fear feet flesh flowing tears foes give glorious glory gospel gracious guilt Hallelujah happy hath hear heart heaven heavenly hell holy honours hope Hosanna humble humble souls Hymn immortal Israel Jehovah Jesus Jews joyful King Lamb light live Lord mercy mighty mortal o'er Oswestry pain pardon peace pOME Portugal prayer proclaim promise raise Redeemer reigns rejoice rest righteousness rise sacred saints salvation Satan Saviour shine sing sinners sins skies smile song sorrows soul sovereign Spirit sweet tears thee thine thou art thy face thy grace thy love thy name thy praise thy throne thy word tongue triumph trust truth Ulverston voice Walsal Wareham wondrous ye saints
Page 49 - A thousand ages in Thy sight Are like an evening gone ; Short as the watch that ends the night Before the rising sun.
Page 136 - In vain we tune our formal songs ; In vain we strive to rise ; Hosannas languish on our tongues, And our devotion dies.
Page 185 - The world recedes ; it disappears ! Heaven opens on my eyes ! my ears With sounds seraphic ring ! Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! O grave, where is thy victory ? O death, where is thy sting ? MAN SHOULD STUDY HIMSELF, AND NOT PRY INTO GOD.
Page 129 - 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.
Page 91 - Plenteous grace with thee is found, Grace to cover all my sin : Let the healing streams abound : Make and keep me pure within. Thou of life the fountain art. Freely let me take of thee : Spring thou up within my heart, Rise to all eternity.
Page 186 - FRIEND after friend departs : Who hath not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end : Were this frail world our final rest, Living or dying, none were blest.
Page 49 - E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming love has been my theme, And shall be till I die.
Page 111 - No rude alarms of raging foes ; No cares to break the long repose ; No midnight shade, no clouded sun, But sacred, high, eternal noon.