The Juvenile messenger of the Presbyterian Church in England, Volumes 7-11

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Page 43 - I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.
Page 104 - Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?
Page 5 - O'er each fair sleeping brow, She had each folded flower in sight— Where are those dreamers now? One midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream, is laid ; The Indian knows his place of rest Far in the cedar shade.
Page 98 - Just as I am, and waiting not To rid my soul of one dark blot, To Thee, Whose blood can cleanse each spot, O Lamb of God, I come!
Page 158 - For he commandeth and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths : their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end.
Page 158 - Then they cry unto the LORD in their trouble, And HE bringeth them out of their distresses. HE maketh the storm a calm, So that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet ; So HE bringeth them unto their desired haven.
Page 168 - I have been in the deep ; in journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren ; in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness.
Page 83 - Waft, waft, ye winds, His story, And you, ye waters, roll, Till, like a sea of glory, It spreads from pole to pole ; Till o'er our ransomed nature The Lamb for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign.
Page 8 - Go, labour on while it is day ; The world's dark night is hastening on ; Speed, speed thy work ; cast sloth away ; It is not thus that souls are won.

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