The hymn book of the New connexion of general Baptists

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Page 151 - Here may the wretched sons of want Exhaustless riches find; Riches above what earth can grant, And lasting as the mind. 3 Here the fair tree of knowledge grows, And yields a free repast; Sublimer sweets than nature knows Invite the longing taste.
Page 79 - When by the dreadful tempest borne, High on the broken wave, They know thou art not slow to hear, Nor impotent to save. 4 The storm is laid — the winds retire, Obedient to thy will : The sea, that roars at thy command, At thy command is still.
Page 109 - With warm desires To see my God. 2 O happy souls that pray Where God appoints to hear ! O happy men, that pay Their constant service there ; They praise Thee still ; And happy they, That love the way To Zion's hill.
Page 401 - Are there no foes for me to face ? Must I not stem the flood ? Is this vile world a friend to grace, To help me on to God...
Page 557 - For all the blessings of the light ; Keep me, O keep me, King of kings, Beneath Thine own almighty wings. 2. Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son, The ill that I this day have done ; That with the world, myself, and Thee, I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.
Page 437 - CHILDREN of the heavenly King, As ye journey, sweetly sing ; Sing your Saviour's worthy praise, Glorious in his works and ways. 2...
Page 609 - God my Redeemer lives, And often from the skies Looks down and watches all my dust, Till he shall bid it rise. 4 Array'd in glorious grace Shall these vile bodies shine, And every shape and every face Look heavenly and divine. 5 These lively hopes we owe To Jesus' dying love ; We would adore his grace below, And sing his power above.
Page 81 - Though in the paths of death I tread, With gloomy horrors overspread, My steadfast heart shall fear no ill. For thou, O Lord, art with me still. Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Page 285 - Let every kindred, every tribe, On this terrestrial ball, To him all majesty ascribe, And crown him Lord of all.
Page 557 - Teach me to live, that I may dread The grave as little as my bed ; Teach me to die, that so I may Rise glorious at the awful day.

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