The Sabbath harp, a selection of sacred poetry, by I. East

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Страница 201 - JESUS, I my cross have taken, All to leave, and follow Thee; Naked, poor, despised, forsaken, Thou from hence my All shalt be. Perish, every fond ambition, All I've sought, or hoped, or known; Yet how rich is my condition ! God, and heaven, are still my own.
Страница 205 - WHEN gathering clouds around I view, And days are dark, and friends are few, On Him I lean, who, not in vain, Experienced every human pain ; He sees my wants, allays my fears, And counts and treasures up my tears.
Страница 223 - FAR from the world, O Lord, I flee, From strife and tumult far ; From scenes where Satan wages still His most successful war. 2 The calm retreat, the silent shade, With prayer and praise agree, And seem by thy sweet bounty made, For those who follow thee.
Страница 154 - Prayer is the simplest form of speech., That infant lips can try ; Prayer the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high. Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air ; His watchword at the gates of death, He enters heaven by prayer. Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice, Returning from his ways ; While angels in their songs rejoice, And say, Behold ! he prays.
Страница 43 - Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Страница 179 - The hand that gave it still supplies The gracious light and heat : His truths upon the nations rise, They rise, but never set.
Страница 214 - E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming Love has been my theme, And shall be till I die. 5 Then in a nobler, sweeter song, I'll sing Thy power to save, When this poor lisping, stammering tongue Lies silent in the grave.
Страница 43 - With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Join voices, all ye living souls : ye birds, That singing up to Heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.
Страница 337 - Come then, and, added to thy many crowns, Receive yet one, the crown of all the earth, Thou who alone art worthy ! It was thine By ancient covenant, ere nature's birth ; And thou hast made it thine by purchase since, And overpaid its value with thy blood.
Страница 215 - THE billows swell, the winds are high, Clouds overcast my wintry sky ; Out of the depths to thee I call, — My fears are great, my strength is small. O Lord, the pilot's part perform, And guard and guide me through the storm ; Defend me from each threatening ill, Control the waves, — say, "Peace ! be still.

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