The Chapel Hymn Book

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S.G. Simpkins, 1842 - 288 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 145 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
Pàgina 72 - In every joy that crowns my days, In every pain I bear, My heart shall find delight in praise, Or seek relief in prayer.
Pàgina 102 - Drawn out in living characters. 2 Such was thy truth, and such thy zeal, Such deference to thy Father's will, Such love, and meekness so divine, I would transcribe, and make them mine.
Pàgina 224 - GREAT God, we sing that mighty hand, By which supported still we stand ; The opening year thy mercy shows ; Let mercy crown it till it close. 2 By day, by night, at home, abroad, Still we are guarded by our God ; By his incessant bounty fed, By his unerring counsel led. 3 With grateful hearts the past we own ; The future all to us unknown, We to thy guardian care commit, And peaceful leave before thy feet.
Pàgina 60 - The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great original proclaim. The unwearied sun, from day to day, Does his Creator's power display, And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty hand.
Pàgina 165 - Before our Father's throne We pour our ardent prayers ; Our fears, our hopes, our aims, are one, Our comforts and our cares. 3 We share our mutual woes, Our mutual burdens bear ; And often for each other flows The sympathizing tear. 4 When we asunder part, It gives us inward pain ; But we shall still be joined in heart, And hope to meet again.
Pàgina 91 - JOY to the world ! the Lord is come ; Let earth receive her King; Let every heart prepare him room, And heaven and nature sing. 2 Joy to the earth ! the Saviour reigns ; Let men their songs employ ; While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains. Repeat the sounding joy.
Pàgina 207 - Name ever dear to me ! When shall my labors have an end, In joy and peace and thee...
Pàgina 211 - 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.
Pàgina 60 - What though in solemn silence all Move round this dark terrestrial ball ; What though no real voice nor sound Amidst their radiant orbs be found; In reason's ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a/ glorious voice; For ever singing, as they shine, " The Hand that made us is divine.

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