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angels bear beneath bless blest breast breath bright bring calm child cloud cross daily dark death deep divine doth doubt dwell earth eternal faint faith fall Father fear feel feet fire flow forever give given glad glorious glory God's grace guard hand hast hath hear heart heaven heavenly holy hope hour human HYMN keep King land lead life's lift light live look Lord mighty mind morning move never night o'er pain path peace perfect praise pray prayer presence pure raise rest rise round seek shadow shine sing song sorrow soul spirit spring stand stars storm strength strong sweet Teach tears Thee Thine things Thou art thought Thy love toil true trust truth turn unto voice wait wandering watch weak weary wings
Seite 379 - Lo ! such the child whose early feet The paths of peace have trod ; Whose secret heart, with influence sweet, Is upward drawn to God...
Seite 463 - Whene'er we hear that glorious word ! Faith of our fathers, holy faith ! We will be true to thee till death.
Seite 186 - Let not this weak, unknowing hand Presume Thy bolts to throw ; And deal damnation round the land On each I judge Thy foe. If I am right, Thy grace impart Still in the right to stay ; If I am wrong, O teach my heart To find that better way.
Seite 169 - Through storm and night ; When the wild tempests rave, Ruler of wind and wave, Do thou our country save By thy great might ! 2 For her our prayer shall rise To God above the skies ; On him we wait. Thou who art ever nigh, Guarding with watchful eye, To thee aloud we cry. God save the State ! 135.
Seite 493 - GLORIOUS things of thee are spoken, Zion, city of our God ! He whose word cannot be broken, Formed thee for his own abode : On the Rock of Ages founded — What can shake thy sure repose? With salvation's walls surrounded, Thou may'st smile at all thy foes.
Seite 113 - 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.
Seite 456 - A MIGHTY fortress is our God, A bulwark never failing; Our helper he, amid the flood Of mortal ills prevailing. For still our ancient foe Doth seek to work us woe ; His craft and power are great; And, armed with cruel hate, On earth is not his equal.
Seite 252 - O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone, And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile!