Divine Songs, Attempted in Easy Language: For the Use of Children

Henry Mozley and Sons. Sold by Jolland, Cowie & Company, Poultry, London., 1847 - 72 pāgines

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Pāgina 49 - tis to see A whole assembly worship thee ! At once they sing, at once they pray ; They hear of heaven, and learn the way. I have been there, and still would go ; 'Tis like a little heaven below : Not all my pleasure and my play Shall tempt me to forget this day.
Pāgina 52 - To God the Father, God the Son, And God the Spirit, three in one, Be honor, praise, and glory given, By all on earth, and all in heaven.
Pāgina 66 - Just such is the Christian ; his course he begins, Like the sun in a mist, when he mourns for his sins, And melts into tears ; then he breaks out and shines, And travels his heavenly way : But when he comes nearer to finish his race, Like a fine setting sun, he looks richer in grace, And gives a sure hope, at the end of his days, Of rising in brighter array.
Pāgina 33 - DOGS DELIGHT to bark and bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight. For 'tis their nature too. But, children, you should never let Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes.
Pāgina 11 - I sing the goodness of the Lord, That filled the earth with food ; He formed the creatures with His word, And then pronounced them good.
Pāgina 46 - When from the chambers of the east His morning race begins, He never tires, nor stops to rest, But round the world he shines. So, like the sun, would I fulfil The business of the day: Begin my work betimes, and still March on my heavenly way. Give me, O Lord, thy early grace, Nor let my soul complain That the young morning of my days Has all been spent in vain.
Pāgina 31 - But liars we can never trust, Though they should speak the thing that's true ; And he that does one fault at first, And lies to hide it, makes it two.
Pāgina 70 - PITY the sorrows of a poor old man, Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door ; Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span ; Oh ! give relie-t", and Heaven will bless your store.
Pāgina 68 - Soft and easy is thy cradle; Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay: When His birthplace was a stable, And His softest bed was hay.
Pāgina 67 - HUSH ! my dear, lie still and slumber, Holy angels guard thy bed ! Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy bead.

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