The Primitive Methodist revival hymn book, compiled by W. Harland

Front Cover
William Harland
1861
 

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Page 98 - Tis done: the great transaction's done, I am my Lord's, and He is mine: He drew me and I followed on, Charmed to confess the voice divine, 4 Now rest, my long-divided heart, Fixed on this blissful centre, rest; With ashes who would grudge to part, When called on angels
Page 134 - Heaven and earth must pass away — Songs of praise shall crown that day ; God will make new heavens and earth — • Songs of praise shall hail their birth.
Page 51 - HOW precious is the book divine, By inspiration given ! Bright as a lamp its doctrines shine, To guide our souls to heaven. 2 It sweetly cheers our drooping hearts, In this dark vale of tears ; Life, light, and joy it still imparts, And quells our rising fears. 3 This lamp, through all the tedious night Of life, shall guide our way, Till we behold the clearer light Of an eternal day.
Page 48 - HOW beauteous are their feet, Who stand on Zion's hill ! Who bring salvation on their tongues, And words of peace reveal ! 2 How charming is their voice ! How sweet the tidings are ! — " Zion, behold thy Saviour King ! He reigns and triumphs here.
Page 58 - I heard the voice of Jesus say, I am this dark world's light, Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise, And all thy day be bright. I looked to Jesus, and I found In Him my star, my sun ; And in that light of life I'll walk Till travelling days are done.
Page 38 - GLORY to thee, my God, this night, For all the blessings of the light ; Keep me, O keep me, King of Kings, Beneath thine own Almighty wings. 2 Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son, The ill that I this day have done ; That with the world, myself, and thee, I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.
Page 48 - How happy are our ears . That hear this joyful sound, Which kings and prophets waited for, And sought, but never found.
Page 54 - His name yields the richest perfume, And sweeter than music his voice; His presence disperses my gloom, And makes all within me rejoice: I should, were he always thus nigh, Have nothing to wish or to fear : No mortal so happy as I, My summer would last all the year.
Page 36 - 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 75 - 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!

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