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adore Angels beams beauty behold beneath bleſſed breaſt breath bright Chriſt clouds dark darkneſs dead death deep DEPARTED divine doth dwell earth eternal eyes face Faith fall Father fear feel feet fire firſt flow give given glorious glory gone grace grave hand hath head hear heart Heaven heavenly hill holy hope hour hymn Jeſus King land laſt leave light living look Lord meet mind morn mortal moſt nature never night o'er ocean once pain peace praiſe pray prayer pure reſt riſe round Saviour ſee ſhall ſhould ſky ſmile ſome ſong ſoul ſpirit ſtand ſtars ſtill ſtreams ſweet teach tears tell Thee theſe thine things thoſe Thou art thought thouſand throne train truth viſion voice wake wandering wave weep whoſe wings
Página 132 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Página 74 - Awake, my soul ! not only passive praise Thou owest ! not alone these swelling tears, Mute thanks and secret ecstasy ! Awake, Voice of sweet song ! Awake, my Heart, awake ! Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my Hymn.
Página 110 - Abide with me from morn till eve, For without thee I cannot live ; Abide with me when night is nigh, For without thee I dare not die.
Página 151 - What thou art we know not; What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.
Página 104 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh ; The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
Página 102 - If I am right, thy grace impart, Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, oh teach my heart To find that better way...
Página 25 - For very love, beholding Thy happy name, they weep. The mention of thy glory Is unction to the breast, And medicine in sickness, And love, and life, and rest.
Página 162 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...