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adore ages almighty angels appear bear Behold bleſſings bounty breath bring chearful Christ command Common Metre creatures crowns death divine earth eternal ev'ry everlaſting eyes faints faith Father fear flow foul frame give glorious glory goodneſs grace grateful hand hath hear heart heav'n heav'nly hell holy honour hope hour humble HYMN Hymn immortal Jesus join kind king known land leave light lives Long Metre LORD mercy mind morning mortal muſt nature never night o'er peace pleaſures pow'r praiſe proclaim race raiſe reigns reſt riſe roll round Saviour ſeas ſee ſhall ſhine ſin ſing ſkies ſky ſmile ſongs ſoul ſpread ſtand ſtill ſun thee theſe thine things thoſe thou thoughts thouſand thro throne thy praiſe tongue truth unite various voice whoſe wiſdom worlds
Стр. 118 - If I am right, thy grace impart, Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, oh teach my heart To find that better way...
Стр. 11 - To all my weak complaints and cries Thy mercy lent an ear, Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt To form themselves in prayer.
Стр. 74 - COME, let us join our cheerful songs With angels round the throne ; Ten thousand thousand are their tongues, But all their joys are one. 2 " Worthy the Lamb that died," they cry, " To be exalted thus ;" "Worthy the Lamb," our lips reply,
Стр. 118 - What conscience dictates to be done. Or warns me not to do, This teach me more than Hell to shun, That more than Heaven pursue.
Стр. 185 - With grateful hearts the past we own ; The future, all to us unknown, We to thy guardian care commit, And peaceful leave before thy feet.
Стр. 80 - MY dear Redeemer and my Lord, I read my duty in thy word ; But in thy life the law appears Drawn out in living characters. 2 Such was thy truth, and such thy zeal, Such deference to thy Father's will, Such love, and meekness so divine, I would transcribe and make them mine.
Стр. 157 - If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies; And they are fools who roam : The world has nothing to bestow ; From our own selves our joys must flow, And that dear hut, our home.
Стр. 13 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.