Children at home, by [the] author of 'Almost persuaded'.

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Page 253 - I HEARD the voice of Jesus say, " Come unto Me and rest ; Lay down, thou weary one, lay down Thy head upon My breast !" I came to Jesus as I was, Weary, and worn, and sad ; I found in Him a resting-place, And He has made me glad. 2 I heard the voice of Jesus say, " Behold, I freely give The living water ; thirsty one, Stoop down, and drink, and live...
Page 87 - The human sorrow and smart ! And yet it never was in my soul To play so ill a part : But evil is wrought by want of Thought, As well as want of Heart...
Page 136 - I WAS a wandering sheep, I did not love the fold ; I did not love my Shepherd's voice, I would not be controlled.
Page 207 - Blest is the man, whose softening heart Feels all another's pain ; To whom the supplicating eye Was never raised in vain...
Page 55 - MY soul, there is a country, Afar beyond the stars, Where stands a winged sentry, All skilful in the wars. There, above noise and danger, Sweet Peace sits crowned with smiles, And one born in a manger, Commands the beauteous files.
Page 33 - Why should we fear youth's draught of joy, If pure, would sparkle less ? Why should the cup the sooner cloy Which God hath deign'd to bless...
Page 17 - If pride be lurking in your mind, Inquire if you can bear a slight, Or patiently give up your right ; Can you submissively consent To take reproof and punishment ; And feel no angry temper start In any corner of your heart ? Can you...
Page 234 - ... sake : that if it shall be thy pleasure to prolong his days here on earth, he may live to thee. and be an instrument of thy glory, by serving thee faithfully, and doing good in his generation ; or else receive him into those heavenly habitations, where the souls of them that sleep in the Lord Jesus enjoy perpetual rest and felicity. Grant this, O Lord, for thy mercies...
Page 241 - Morn came — a blight had found The crimson velvet of the unfolding bud, The harp-strings rang a thrilling strain, and broke — And that young mother lay upon the earth In childless agony. Again the voice That stirred her vision : " He who asked of thee, Loveth a cheerful giver.
Page 33 - THE heart of childhood is all mirth : We frolic to and fro As free and blithe, as if on earth Were no such thing as woe.

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