"Great Hymns and Modern Instances,"

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Perkins Bros. Company, printers, 1917 - Hymns, English - 152 pages
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Contents

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Page 16 - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days, There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise. In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Page 65 - I THINK when I read that sweet story of old, When Jesus was here among men, How he called little children as lambs to his fold, I should like to have been with them then.
Page 20 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
Page 64 - The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky. And spangled heavens — a shining frame Their great Original proclaim. The unwearied sun, from day to day Doth his Creator's power display, And publishes to every land The work of an almighty hand.
Page 1 - FROM Greenland's icy mountains, From India's coral strand; Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand; From many an ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain.
Page 57 - . . At eve hold not thy hand ; To doubt and fear give thou no heed,— Broad-cast it o'er the land.
Page 72 - Blessed is he that considereth the poor: the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble. The Lord will preserve him, and keep him alive; and he shall be blessed upon the earth: and thou wilt not deliver him unto the will of his enemies. The Lord will strengthen him upon the bed of languishing: thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness.
Page 7 - Thou, O Christ, art all I want ; More than all in Thee I find ; Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, Heal the sick, and lead the blind. Just and holy is Thy name, I am all unrighteousness ; False and full of sin I am, Thou art full of truth and grace.
Page 30 - What though beneath thee man put forth His pomp, his pride, his skill ; And arts that made fire, flood, and earth, The vassals of his will ; — Yet mourn I not thy parted sway, Thou dim discrowned king of day...
Page 116 - Ashamed of Jesus ! that dear Friend On whom my hopes of heaven depend ! No ; when I blush, be this my shame, That I no more revere His Name.

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