Devotional Poems for First-day Schools

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General Conference of Friends' First-Day Schools, 1872 - 143 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 59 - Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try ; Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high. Prayer is the Christian's vital breath. The Christian's native air; His watchword at the gates of death; He enters heaven with Prayer. Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice, Returning from his ways ; While angels in their songs rejoice, And cry, "Behold he prays.
Pàgina 95 - I'd be Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee ! •3. There let the way appear, Steps unto heaven ; All that thou sendest me, In mercy given; Angels to beckon me Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee ! 4.
Pàgina 36 - What thou shalt to-day provide Let me as a child receive ; What to-morrow may betide, Calmly to thy wisdom leave : 'Tis enough that thou wilt care ; Why should I the burden bear...
Pàgina 93 - In holy contemplation, We sweetly then pursue The theme of God's salvation, And find it ever new. Set free from present sorrow, We cheerfully can say, — " E'en let the unknown to-morrow Bring with it what it may.
Pàgina 25 - HOW doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower...
Pàgina 89 - Sun of our life, thy quickening ray Sheds on our path the glow of day; Star of our hope, thy softened light Cheers the long watches of the night. Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn ; Our noontide is thy gracious dawn ; Our rainbow arch thy mercy's sign ; All, save the clouds of sin, are thine!
Pàgina 95 - NEARER, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee! E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me ; Still all my song shall be, — Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee!
Pàgina 67 - How blest the righteous when he dies ! When sinks a weary soul to rest ! How mildly beam the closing eyes ! How gently heaves the expiring breast ! 2 So fades a summer cloud away ; So sinks the gale when storms are o'er ; So gently shuts the eye of day ; So dies a wave along the shore.
Pàgina 87 - And if my heart and flesh are weak To bear an untried pain, The bruised reed He will not break, But strengthen and sustain.
Pàgina 115 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O death!

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