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abide adore ADVENT SUNDAY Anatolius Andrew of Crete angels Art thou beautiful beloved sleep blessed blest breath Breviary bright brow Caswall Christ Christian Church cloud Cross crown dark dawn dear death deep didst dost doth dread earth earthly eternal eyes faithful Father fear feet flowers gaze giveth His beloved glorious gloriously bright glory God's golden grace grave hand happy hath Hear the soul-dirge heart heavenly hour Jerusalem JERUSALEM THE GOLDEN Jesus John Damascene joy in Heaven Keble King Latin hymns light Lord mercy mighty MONT BLANC morning night o'er PALM SUNDAY Pascha Passover peace poem praise prayer rise robes Rock of Ages sacred saints Saviour Schmolze shining sight silent sinful sing skies smile song sorrow soul spirit star storm SUNDAY sweet tears Thee Thine Thou art throne to-day Trisagion unto voice watch weary wondrous word worship
Seite 129 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead...
Seite 163 - Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently ! Around thee and above, Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge ! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity ! 0 dread and silent mount ! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in prayer, I worshipped the Invisible alone.
Seite 213 - From India's coral strand ; Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand; From many an ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain. 2 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.
Seite 61 - Hath He marks to lead me to Him, If He be my Guide ? " In His Feet and Hands are Wound-prints. And His Side.
Seite 149 - And still where many a garden flower grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year...
Seite 145 - The indorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a friend, and with his blood ; The couch of time ; care's balm and bay ; The week were dark, but for thy light. Thy torch doth show the way.
Seite 130 - Not as a child shall we again behold her ; For when with raptures wild In our embraces we again enfold her, She will not be a child ; But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, Clothed with celestial grace ; And beautiful with all the soul's expansion Shall we behold her face.
Seite 107 - What would we give to our beloved? The hero's heart, to be unmoved, The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep, The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse, The monarch's crown, to light the brows? — "He giveth His beloved sleep.
Seite 75 - Faint and weary Thou hast sought me, On the cross of suffering bought...
Seite 259 - THERE is a book, who runs may read, Which heavenly truth imparts, And all the lore its scholars need, Pure eyes and Christian hearts. The works of God above, below, Within us and around, Are pages in that book, to show How God Himself is found.