The Christian's Book of Gems: A Selection of Sacred Poetry |
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angels beams bear beauty beneath blessed blest bliss bloom breast breath bright calm cloud dark dead dear death deep delight divine dream dust dwell earth eternal face fade fair faith fall fear field flow flowers friends give given glorious glory grace grave green grief hand happy hast hath head heart heaven heavenly holy hope hour human Jesus land leave light live lone look Lord mind morn mother mountains nature never night o'er once pain peace praise prayer presence pride rest rise roll round saints scene shine sight sleep smile song sorrow soul speak spirit star storm stream sweet tears thee thine things thou thou art thought throne true truth voice wandering wild wind wings yield young
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Сторінка 234 - Philosophy, baptized In the pure fountain of eternal love, Has eyes indeed; and viewing all she sees As meant to indicate a God to man, Gives him his praise, and forfeits not her own.
Сторінка 133 - Hark ! hark ! — to God the chorus breaks, From every host, from every gem ; But one alone the Saviour speaks, — It is the Star of Bethlehem.
Сторінка 134 - It was my guide, my light, my all, it bade my dark forebodings cease ; and through the storm and danger's thrall it led me to the port of peace. Now safely moored — my perils o'er, I'll sing, first in night's diadem, for ever and for evermore, the Star— The Star of Bethlehem...
Сторінка 179 - Abide with me from morn till eve, For without Thee I cannot live : Abide with me when night is nigh, For without Thee I dare not die.
Сторінка 131 - Die he, or justice must; unless for him Some other able, and as willing, pay The rigid satisfaction, death for death.
Сторінка 279 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh ; The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
Сторінка 47 - But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. Afid there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail: And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Сторінка 47 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Сторінка 180 - Come near and bless us when we wake, Ere through the world our way we take : Till, in the ocean of Thy love, We lose ourselves in Heaven above ! John Keble.
Сторінка 9 - And I heard a voice from heaven, as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of a great thunder ; and I heard the voice of harpers harping with their harps...