The Hymns of Progress: Being a Compilation, Original and Select, of Hymns, Songs, and Readings, Designed to Meet a Part of the Progressive Wants of the Age in the Church, Grove, Hall, Lyceum and School

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W. White, 1864 - Hymns, English - 224 pages
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Page 27 - With all thy quickening powers, Kindle a flame of sacred love In these cold hearts of ours. 2 Look ! how we grovel here below, Fond of these trifling toys ! Our souls can neither fly nor go To reach eternal joys. 3 In vain we tune our formal songs; In vain we strive to rise ; Hosannas languish on our tongues, And our devotion dies.
Page 36 - From all that dwell below the skies, Let the Creator's praise arise ; Let the Redeemer's name be sung, Through every land, by every tongue. 2. Eternal are thy mercies, Lord ; Eternal truth attends thy word : Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore, Till suns shall rise and set no more.
Page 27 - COME, Holy Spirit, heavenly dove, With all thy quickening powers, Kindle a flame of sacred love, In these cold hearts of ours. 2 Look how we grovel here below, Fond of these trifling toys : Our souls can neither fly nor go, To reach eternal joys.
Page 14 - I love by faith to take a view Of brighter scenes in heaven ; The prospect doth my strength renew, While here by tempests driven,. 6 Thus, when life's toilsome day is o'er, May its departing ray Be calm as this impressive hour, And lead to endless day ! >7 A God the only Object of Worship.
Page 38 - Hark, hark! to God the chorus breaks, From every host, from every gem, But one alone the Saviour speaks; It is the Star of Bethlehem.
Page 124 - COME, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish; Come to the mercy-seat, fervently kneel ; Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish ; Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.
Page 130 - Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free!
Page 57 - Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.
Page 57 - 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.
Page 71 - Thou canst not toil in vain — Cold, heat, and moist, and dry Shall foster and mature the grain For garners in the sky. Thence, when the glorious end, The day of God is come, The angel-reapers shall descend, And heaven cry " Harvest home ! " James Montgomery, I77i,-1854, HOME.

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