The Christian's Book of Gems: A Selection of Sacred Poetry

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W.S. Orr, 1840 - 288 pages
 

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Page 252 - This is the month, and this the happy morn Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.
Page 212 - AND is there care in heaven ? and is there love In heavenly spirits to these creatures base, That may compassion of their evils move ? There is...
Page 114 - THE Lord my pasture shall prepare, And feed me with a shepherd's care ; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye ; My noonday walks He shall attend, . And all my midnight hours defend.
Page 216 - Thou art the source and centre of all minds, Their only point of rest, eternal Word ! From thee departing, they are lost and rove At random without honour, hope, or peace. From thee is all that soothes the life of man. His high endeavour, and his glad success, His strength to suffer and his will to serve.
Page 217 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Page 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.
Page 58 - DIM as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars To lonely, weary, wandering travellers, Is Reason to the soul : and as on high, Those rolling fires discover but the sky, Not light us here ; so Reason's glimmering ray I Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way, But guide us upward to a better day.
Page 114 - 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 Though in a bare and rugged way, Through devious lonely wilds I stray.
Page 149 - O'er mountain tower and town, Or mirrored in the ocean vast, A thousand fathoms down. As fresh in yon horizon dark, As young thy beauties seem, As when the eagle from the ark First sported in thy beam.
Page 247 - Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more; I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew, Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn; Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save.

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