Lyra sacra, being a collection of hymns ancient and modern, odes and fragments of sacred poetry, compiled and ed. by B.W. Savile

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Bourchier Wrey Savile
1865
 

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Passatges populars

Pàgina 13 - COME, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire, And lighten with celestial fire : Thou the anointing Spirit art, Who dost thy sevenfold gifts impart. Thy blessed Unction from above, Is comfort, life, and fire of love. Enable with perpetual light, The dulness of our blinded sight. Anoint and cheer our soiled face With the abundance of thy grace. Keep far our foes, give peace at home : Where thou art guide, no ill can come.
Pàgina 72 - HOW sweet the name of Jesus sounds In a believer's ear ! It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds. And drives away his fear.
Pàgina 178 - He that is down needs fear no fall; He that is low, no pride. He that is humble, ever shall Have God to be his guide.
Pàgina 149 - Friend after friend departs ; Who hath not lost a friend? There is no union here of hearts, That finds not here an end.
Pàgina 46 - 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.
Pàgina 114 - FOR a closer walk with God, A calm and heavenly frame ! A light to shine upon the road That leads me to the Lamb...
Pàgina 89 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty ! thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair : thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable ! who sitt'st above these Heavens To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Pàgina 45 - Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets, in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
Pàgina 130 - 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.
Pàgina 25 - A better country, that is, an heavenly." TITOR thee, O dear, dear country, Mine eyes their vigils keep ; For very love, beholding Thy happy name, they weep. The mention of thy glory Is unction to the breast, And medicine in sickness, And love, and life, and rest.

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