Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
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PÓgina 22 - Tis done ! the great transaction's done ; I am my Lord's, and He is mine ; He drew me, and I followed on, Charmed to confess the voice divine. 4 Now rest, my long-divided heart, Fixed on this blissful centre, rest : With ashes who would grudge to part, When called on angels...
PÓgina 118 - BROTHER, thou art gone before us, and thy saintly soul is flown Where tears are wiped from every eye, and sorrow is unknown ; From the burden of the flesh, and from care and fear released, Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.
PÓgina 117 - Let cares like a wild deluge come, And storms of sorrow fall ; May I but safely reach my home, My God, my heaven, my all : 4 There shall I bathe my weary soul, In seas of heavenly rest, And not a wave of trouble roll Across my peaceful breast.
PÓgina 118 - Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. The toilsome way thou'st travelled o'er, And borne the heavy load ; But Christ hath taught thy languid feet To reach his blest abode ; Thou'rt sleeping now like Lazarus, Upon his father's breast, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest.
PÓgina 362 - O'EE the gloomy hills of darkness, Look, my soul, be still, and gaze; All the promises do travail With a glorious day of grace; Blessed jubilee! Let thy glorious morning dawn.
PÓgina 305 - JESUS ! lover of my soul, •* Let me to thy bosom fly, While the raging billows roll, While the tempest still is high...
PÓgina 294 - His grandeur he derived from heaven alone, For he was great, ere fortune made him so; And wars, like mists that rise against the sun, Made him but greater seem, not greater grow.
PÓgina 41 - There are now in our whole land two millions of human beings, exposed, defenceless, to every insult, and every injury short of maiming or death, which their fellow-men may choose to inflict. They suffer all that can be inflicted by wanton caprice, by grasping avarice, by brutal lust, by malignant spite, and by insane anger. Their happiness is the sport of every whim, and the prey of every passion that may, occasionally, or habitually, infest the master's bosom. If we could calculate the amount of...