The Golden Harp: A Collection of Hymns, Tunes, and Choruses, for the Use of Sabbath Schools, Social Gatherings, Picnics and the Home Circle

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Ditson, 1858 - Hymns, English - 184 pages

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Page 51 - In every joy that crowns my days, In every pain I bear, My heart shall find delight in praise, Or seek relief in prayer.
Page 60 - TEACH me, my God and King, In all things thee to see, And what I do in any thing, To do it as for thee...
Page 31 - HOW blest the righteous when he dies ! When sinks a weary soul to rest, How mildly beam the closing eyes, How gently heaves the expiring breast! 2 So fades a summer cloud away, So sinks the gale when storms are o'er : So gently shuts the eye of day, So dies a wave along the shore.
Page 47 - Create in me a elean heart ; O God" 349 1 OH, for a heart to praise my God ! A heart from sin set free...
Page 31 - Ye chosen seed of Israel's race, Ye ransomed from the fall ; Hail him, who saves you by his grace, And crown him Lord of all. 4 Sinners, whose love can ne'er forget The wormwood and the gall, Go, spread your trophies at his feet, And crown him Lord of all, 5 Let every kindred, every tribe, On this terrestrial ball.
Page 38 - I love by faith to take a view Of brighter scenes in heaven; The prospect doth my strength renew, While here by tempests driven. 5 Thus, when life's toilsome day is o'er, May its departing ray Be calm as this impressive hour, And lead to endless day.
Page 33 - With all-engaging charms; Hark ! how He calls the tender lambs, And folds them in His arms. 2 "Permit them to approach," He cries, " Nor scorn their humble name ; For 'twas to bless such souls as these The Lord of angels came.
Page 47 - Should earth against my soul engage, And hellish darts be hurled, Then I can smile at satan's rage, And face a frowning world. 3 Let cares, like a wild deluge, come, And storms of sorrow fall ; May I but safely reach my home, My God, my heaven, my all...
Page 80 - All that spring, with bounteous hand, Scatters o'er the smiling land ; All that liberal autumn pours From her rich o'erflowing stores. These to thee, my God, we owe, Source whence all our blessings flow ; And for these my soul shall raise Grateful vows and solemn praise.
Page 86 - SISTER, thou wast mild and lovely, Gentle as the summer breeze, Pleasant as the air of evening, When it floats among the trees. 2 Peaceful be thy silent slumber — Peaceful in the grave so low : Thou no more wilt join our number , Thou no more our songs shalt know.

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