The Hymnal of the Church

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T. Whittaker, 1897 - 600 pages

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Page 515 - Lord my pasture shall prepare, And feed me with a shepherd's care ; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye ; My noonday walks He shall attend, And all my midnight hours defend.
Page 385 - Twere vain the ocean-depths to sound, Or pierce to either pole : 2 The world can never give The bliss for which we sigh ; 'Tis not the whole of life to live, Nor all of death to die.
Page 356 - His sovereign power, without our aid, Made us of clay, and formed us men; And when, like wandering sheep, we strayed, He brought us to his fold again.
Page 374 - He reigns and triumphs here." 3 How happy are our ears, That hear this joyful sound, Which kings and prophets waited for, And sought, but never found ! / 4 How blessed are our eyes, That see this heavenly light ! Prophets and kings desired it long, But died without the sight. 5 The watchmen join their voice, And tuneful notes employ; Jerusalem breaks forth in songs, And deserts learn the joy. 6 The Lord makes bare his arm Through all the earth abroad ; Let every nation now behold Their Saviour and...
Page 525 - I heard the voice of JESUS say, ' Behold I freely give The living water, thirsty one, Stoop down, and drink, and live :' I came to JESUS, and I drank Of that life-giving stream ; My thirst was quenched, my soul revived, And now I live in Him. I heard the voice of JESUS say, ' I am this dark world's light ; Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise And all thy day be bright.
Page 263 - I'd be Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee ! 3 There let the way appear Steps unto heaven; All that thou sendest me, In mercy given; Angels to beckon me Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee!
Page 523 - In every joy that crowns my days, In every pain I bear, My heart shall find delight, in praise, Or seek relief in prayer.
Page 351 - Soon as the evening shades prevail The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth ; Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
Page 178 - Hail, sacred Feast, which Jesus makes, Rich banquet of His Flesh and Blood ! Thrice happy he who here partakes That sacred Stream, that heavenly Food.
Page 197 - What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle ; Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile ; In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown ; The heathen, in his blindness, Bows down to wood and stone.

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