HYMNS OF THE CHURCH MILITANT

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Página 5 - HOW sweet the Name of Jesus sounds In a believer's ear ! It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds, And drives away his fear.
Página 67 - Love divine, all love excelling. Joy of heaven, to earth come down ! Fix in us thy humble dwelling; All thy faithful mercies crown. Jesus, thou art all compassion, Pure, unbounded love thou art ; Visit us with thy salvation ; Enter every trembling heart.
Página 235 - The calm retreat, the silent shade, With prayer and praise agree ; And seem, by Thy sweet bounty made, For those who follow Thee.
Página 207 - How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord, Is laid for your faith in his excellent word! What more can he say than to you he hath said ? You, who unto Jesus for refuge have fled.
Página 102 - The Lord, ye know, is God indeed ; Without our aid He did us make : We are His flock, He doth us feed, And for His sheep He doth us take.
Página 34 - GLORIOUS things of thee are spoken, Zion, city of our God ! He, whose word cannot be broken, Formed thee for his own abode : On the Rock of Ages founded, What can shake thy sure repose ? With salvation's walls surrounded, Thou may'st smile at all thy foes.
Página 583 - FRIEND after friend departs : Who hath not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts, That finds not here an end: Were this frail world our final rest, Living or dying, none were blest.
Página 623 - Here in the body pent, Absent from him I roam, Yet nightly pitch my moving tent A day's march nearer home.
Página 218 - Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace ; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour ; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.
Página 444 - Dear Lord ! and shall we ever live At this poor dying rate ? Our love so faint, so cold to thee, And thine to us so great? 5 Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, With all thy quickening powers ; Come, shed abroad a Saviour's love, And that shall kindle ours.

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