Sacred Songs: Adapted to Social Religious Meetings, Sabbath Schools, and Family Worship

Forside
A. Tompkins, 1843 - 108 sider
 

Hva folk mener - Skriv en omtale

Vi har ikke funnet noen omtaler på noen av de vanlige stedene.

Andre utgaver - Vis alle

Vanlige uttrykk og setninger

Populære avsnitt

Side 7 - 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...
Side 42 - Sinners, whose love can ne'er forget The wormwood and the gall, Go, spread your trophies at His feet, And crown Him Lord of all.
Side 59 - WHILE thee I seek, protecting Power, Be my vain wishes stilled ; And may this consecrated hour With better hopes be filled. 2 Thy love the power of thought bestowed ; To thee my thoughts would soar ; Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed ; That mercy I adore. 3 In each event of life, how clear Thy ruling hand I see ! Each blessing to my soul more dear, Because conferred by thee.
Side 6 - My heart shall triumph in my Lord, And bless His works, and bless His Word; Thy works of grace, how bright they shine, How deep Thy counsels, how divine...
Side 48 - AWAKE, my soul, stretch every nerve, And press with vigor on ; A heavenly race demands thy zeal, And an Immortal crown.
Side 47 - What shall I do to make it known, What thou for all mankind hast done ! 7 O for a trumpet voice, On all the world to call ! To bid their hearts rejoice In him who died for all ! For all my Lord was crucified, For all, for all my Saviour died ! HYMN 35.
Side 19 - My God, permit me not to be A stranger to myself and thee; Amidst a thousand thoughts I rove Forgetful of my highest love. 2 Why should my passions mix with earth, And thus debase my heavenly birth? Why should I cleave to things below, And let my God, my Saviour go?
Side 24 - E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming love has been my theme, And shall be till I die.
Side 9 - HARK, the glad sound, the Saviour comes, The Saviour promised long ; Let every heart prepare a throne, ||: And every voice a song.
Side 86 - BLOW ye the trumpet, blow, The gladly solemn sound ; Let all the nations know, To earth's remotest bound, The year of jubilee is come ; Return, ye ransomed sinners, home.

Bibliografisk informasjon