The Psychic Songster for Use in the Home, Circles, Camp Meetings and Other Spiritualistic Gatherings

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G. T. Thompson, 1907 - 64 страници
 

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Страница 3 - Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home, Lead Thou me on! Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene, — one step enough for me.
Страница 45 - VITAL spark of heavenly flame! Quit, O quit this mortal frame ! Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, O, the pain, the bliss of dying ! Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life! Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister spirit, come away! What is this absorbs me quite? Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirits, draws my breath? Tell me, my soul, can this be death? The world recedes; it disappears! Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic...
Страница 27 - Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee! E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me; Still all my song shall be. Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee!
Страница 11 - My native country! thee, Land of the noble free, Thy name I love; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills; My heart with rapture thrills, .Like that above.
Страница 28 - Then, with my waking thoughts Bright with Thy praise. Out of my stony griefs. Bethel I'll raise So by my woes to be Nearer, my God, to Thee. Nearer to Thee ! Or if, on joyful wing.
Страница 3 - I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou Shouldst lead me, on. I loved to choose and see my path ; but now Lead Thou me on ! I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Pride ruled my will : remember not past years.
Страница 42 - Were this frail world our only rest, Living or dying, none were blest. Beyond the flight of time, Beyond this vale of death, There surely is some blessed clime Where life is not a breath, Nor life's affections transient fire, Whose sparks fly upward to expire.
Страница 45 - The world recedes; it disappears! Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring: Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O Grave! where is thy victory? O Death ! where is thy sting ? The Universal Prayer FATHER of all!
Страница 62 - My days are gliding swiftly by, and I a pilgrim stranger, Would not detain them as they fly, those hours of toil and danger; For O we stand on Jordan's strand, our friends are passing over, And just before, the shining shore we may almost discover.
Страница 27 - I'd be Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee ! 3 There let the way appear Steps unto heaven; All that thou sendest me, In mercy given; Angels to beckon me Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee!

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