Hymns of Faith and Hope

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Carter, 1857 - 269 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 160 - I heard the voice of Jesus say, " I am this dark world's Light ; Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise, And all thy day be bright." I looked to Jesus, and I found In Him my Star, my Sun ; And in that Light of life I'll walk Till travelling days are done ! H.
Pàgina 154 - I WAS a wandering sheep, I did not love the fold ; I did not love my Shepherd's voice, I would not be controlled. I was a wayward child, I did not love my home, I did not love my Father's voice, I loved afar to roam.
Pàgina 73 - Not myself, but the truth that in life I have spoken, Not myself, but the seed that in life I have sown, Shall pass on to ages, — all about me forgotten, Save the truth I have spoken, the things I have done.
Pàgina 250 - I dare not choose my lot : I would not, if I might ; Choose thou for me, my God, So shall I walk aright.
Pàgina 182 - Calm in the hour of buoyant health. Calm in my hour of pain ; Calm in my poverty or wealth, Calm in my loss or gain...
Pàgina 162 - Here would I feed upon the bread of God ; Here drink with Thee the royal wine of Heaven ; Here would I lay aside each earthly load, Here taste afresh the calm of sin forgiven.
Pàgina 152 - I LAY my sins on Jesus, The spotless Lamb of God ; He bears them all, and frees us From the accursed load. I bring my guilt to Jesus, To wash my crimson stains White in his Blood most precious, Till not a spot remains.
Pàgina 155 - The Shepherd sought His sheep; The Father sought His child ; They followed me o'er vale and hill, O'er deserts waste and wild. They found me nigh to death, Famished, and faint, and lone ; They bound me with the bands of love ; They saved the wandering one.
Pàgina 249 - THY way, not mine, O Lord, However dark it be ! Lead me by Thine own hand, Choose out the path for me. Smooth let it be, or rough, It will be still the best ; Winding or straight, it leads Right onward to Thy rest.
Pàgina 74 - Tis not for man to trifle ! Life is brief And sin is here ; Our age is but the falling of a leaf — A dropping tear ; We have no time to sport away the hours, All must be earnest in a world like ours.

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