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Página 184 - Darker than night life's shadows fall around us, And, like benighted men, we miss our mark ; God hides Himself, and grace hath scarcely found us, Ere death finds out his victims in the dark. Onward we. go, for still we hear them singing, Come, weary souls ! for Jesus bids you come ! And through the dark, its echoes sweetly ringing, The music of the Gospel leads us home.
Página 185 - ... the pilgrims of the night. Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing, The voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and sea ; And laden souls, by thousands meekly stealing, Kind Shepherd, turn their weary steps to Thee.
Página 81 - there is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety and nine just persons that need no repentance.
Página 184 - HARK! hark, my soul; angelic songs are swelling O'er earth's green fields, and ocean's wavebeat shore : How sweet the truth those blessed strains are telling Of that new life when sin shall be no more. Angels of Jesus, angels of light, Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night. 2 Onward we go, for still we hear them singing, 'Come, weary souls, for Jesus bids you come : ' And, through the dark its echoes sweetly ringing, The music of the Gospel leads us home.
Página 204 - Give me the spirit of Thy trust, To suffer as a son, — To say, though lying in the dust, " My Father's will be done !" I know that trial works for ends Too high for sense to trace ; That oft, in dark attire, He sends Some embassy of grace. May none depart till I have gained The blessing which it bears, And learn, though late, I entertained An angel unawares.
Página 204 - THOU whose sacred feet have trod The thorny path of woe, Forbid that I should slight the rod, Or faint beneath the blow. My spirit to its chastening stroke I meekly would resign, Nor murmur at the heaviest yoke That tells me I am Thine. Give me the spirit of Thy trust, To suffer as a son, — To say, though lying in the dust, My Father's will be done...
Página 185 - Cheer up, my soul ! faith's moonbeams softly glisten Upon the breast of life's most troubled sea; And it will cheer thy drooping heart to listen To those brave songs which angels mean for thee. Angels of Jesus ! &c.
Página 81 - Come unto me, all ye who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.
Página 133 - ... Hills. . . . I again ask you, as a favour, not to desert my family till things are set to rights for them. It is the dying request of "Your friend, " THOMAS J. FITZGERALD." There was also a letter to Mr. Edmond Dalton, of which the following is a copy: — . " Dublin, April 26, 1864. "Dear Ned, — I am going to ask a favour of you, and that is, that you will get Mrs. Dalton to break the sad news of my death to poor Lady Fitzgerald. I go down this evening, and my poor body will be found in the...