Voices of joy and thanksgiving, a collection of sacred poems, compiled by C.E.B.

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Página 74 - Hath he marks to lead me to him, If he be my guide? " In his feet and hands are wound-prints, And his side.
Página 22 - O hope of every contrite heart ! O joy of all the meek! To those who fall, how kind thou art ! How good to those who seek ! 4 But what to those who find ? Ah ! this Nor tongue nor pen can show, The love of Jesus, what it is, None but his loved ones know.
Página 58 - 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 weleome the pilgrims of the night ! \ 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 59 - 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 59 - Angels, sing on ! your faithful watches keeping; Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above ; Till morning's joy shall end the night of weeping, And life's long shadows break in cloudless love.
Página 52 - O, how I fear thee, living God, With deepest, tenderest fears, And worship thee with trembling hope, And penitential tears! Yet I may love thee too, O Lord, Almighty as thou art, For thou hast stooped to ask of me The love of my poor heart.
Página 38 - With hymns of victory. 2 Our hearts be pure from evil, That we may see aright The Lord in rays eternal Of resurrection-light ; And, listening to His accents, May hear so calm and plain His own " All hail," and hearing, May raise the victor strain.
Página 57 - Then, when were ended the six days' employ, — Then all the Sons of God shouted for joy. Still let them succor us ; still let them fight, LORD of angelic hosts, battling for right ! Till, where their anthems they ceaselessly pour, We with the Angels may bow and adore ! ST.
Página 85 - Lighten mine eyes, O Saviour, Or sleep in death shall I, And he, my wakeful tempter, Triumphantly shall cry "He could not make their darkness light, Nor guard them through the hours of night.
Página 82 - Thus would I live: yet now Not I, but He, In all His power and love, Henceforth alive in me.

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