Hymnal of the Methodist Episcopal Church: With Tunes, Band 33;Band 463

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Phillips & Hunt, 1882 - 500 Seiten
 

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Seite 262 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
Seite 72 - To you, in David's town, this day Is born, of David's line, The Saviour, who is Christ the Lord ; And this shall be the sign : 4 " The heavenly babe you there shall find To human view displayed, All meanly wrapped in swathing bands, And in a manger laid.
Seite 495 - He which soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he which soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully. Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly, or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver. [2 Cor. ix, 6, 7.] As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith.
Seite 496 - ALMIGHTY God, unto Whom all hearts be open, all desires known, and from . Whom no secrets are hid ; Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of Thy Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love Thee, and worthily magnify Thy holy Name ; through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Seite 285 - While life's dark maze I tread, And griefs around me spread, Be thou my Guide; Bid darkness turn to day, Wipe sorrow's tears away, Nor let me ever stray From thee aside.
Seite 395 - RISE, my soul, and stretch thy wings, Thy better portion trace ; Rise from transitory things Toward heaven, thy native place : Sun, and moon, and stars decay, Time shall soon this earth remove ; Rise, my soul, and haste away To seats prepared above.
Seite 201 - So shall my walk be close with God, Calm and serene my frame ; So purer light shall mark the road That leads me to the Lamb.
Seite 249 - I would not have the restless will That hurries to and fro, Seeking for some great thing to do, Or secret thing to know ; I would be treated as a child, And guided where I go.
Seite 222 - Ashamed of Jesus, that dear Friend On whom my hopes of heaven depend! No; when I blush, be this my shame, That I no more revere His name.
Seite 338 - 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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