A collection of psalms and hymns in the Mohawk language , for the use of the Six Nation Indians

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Printed at Ruthven's Book & Job Office &c. King-Street, 1839 - 80 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 10 - COME, let us join our cheerful songs, With angels round the throne ; Ten thousand thousand are their tongues, But all their joys are one. 2 "Worthy the Lamb that died"— they cry, "To be exalted thus :"— "Worthy the Lamb"— our lips reply,
Pàgina 49 - Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, Save in the death of Christ my God : All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood.
Pàgina 61 - AWAKE, my soul, and with the sun Thy daily stage of duty run ; Shake off dull sloth, and early rise, To pay thy morning sacrifice.
Pàgina 42 - BEFORE Jehovah's awful throne, Ye nations, bow with sacred joy ; Know that the Lord is God alone ; He can create, and he destroy.
Pàgina 62 - Teach me to live, that I may dread The grave as little as my bed ; Teach me to die, that so I may Rise glorious at the awful day.
Pàgina 40 - The Father hears him pray, • His dear anointed One : He cannot turn away The presence of his Son : His Spirit answers to the blood, And tells me I am born of God. 5 My God is reconciled ; His pard'ning voice I hear : He owns me for his child ; I can no longer fear : With confidence I now draw nigh, And Father, Abba, Father, cry.
Pàgina 43 - We'll crowd Thy gates with thankful songs, High as the heavens our voices raise And Earth, with her ten thousand tongues, Shall fill Thy courts with sounding praise.
Pàgina 20 - JESUS shall reign where'er the sun Does his successive journeys run ; His kingdom stretch from shore to shore, Till moons shall wax and wane no more.
Pàgina 22 - Ye slaves of sin and hell, Your liberty receive, And safe in Jesus dwell, And blest in Jesus live : The year of jubilee is come ; Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home. 5 Ye who have sold for naught Your heritage above, Shall have it back unbought, The gift of Jesus' love : The year of jubilee is come ; Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home.
Pàgina 7 - Our souls can neither fly nor go, To reach eternal joys. 3 In vain we tune our formal songs, In vain we strive to rise ; Hosannas languish on our tongues, And our devotion dies. 4...

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