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appear arms bear beneath birth blood boast born breast breath bright cause close dark dear death deep delight desire divine dwell e'en earth ease eyes face fair faith fame fear feel fire force give glory grace grove hand happy hast head hear heart heaven hope human kind king known leave length less light live Lord lost mind muse nature never night o'er once pain peace pleasure praise prayer prove receive rest rise scene seek shades shine shore side sight sing skies smile song soon sorrow soul sound spirit spring stream sweet tears tell thee theme thine things thou thought true truth verse voice wish yield youth
Page 32 - GOD moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform ; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines Of never-failing skill, He treasures up his bright designs, And works his sovereign will.
Page 46 - SOMETIMES a light surprises ^ The Christian while he sings : It is the Lord who rises With healing in His wings. When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again A season of clear shining, To cheer it, after rain.
Page 14 - 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.
Page 315 - Atlantic billows roared, When such a destined wretch as I, Washed headlong from on board, Of friends, of hope, of all bereft, His floating home for ever left.
Page 317 - No poet wept him : but the page Of narrative sincere, That tells his name, his worth, his age, Is wet with Anson's tear. And tears by bards or heroes shed Alike immortalize the dead. I therefore purpose not, or dream, Descanting on his fate, To give the melancholy theme, A more enduring date. But misery still delights to trace Its 'semblance in another's case. No voice divine the storm allay'd, No- light propitious shone; When, snatch'd from all effectual aid, We perish'd each alone : But I beneath...
Page 250 - Kempenfelt is gone; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done. It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak. She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Page 32 - Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take : The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.
Page 29 - A glory gilds the sacred page, Majestic, like the sun ; It gives a light to every age, It gives, but borrows none. 3 The hand that gave it, still supplies The gracious light and heat ; His truths upon the nations rise, They rise, but never set. 4 Let everlasting thanks be thine, For such a bright display, As makes a world of darkness shine With beams of heavenly day.
Page 36 - GOD of my life, to Thee I call, Afflicted at thy feet I fall ; When the great water-floods prevail, Leave not my trembling heart to fail ! 2 Friend of the friendless, and the faint ! Where should I lodge my deep complaint ? Where but with Thee, whose open door Invites the helpless and the poor...