The Seven Great Hymns of the Mediaeval Church

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Charles C. Nott
A.D.F. Randolph, 1867 - 134 pages
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Page 21 - Thou hast no shore, fair ocean ! Thou hast no time, bright day ! Dear fountain of refreshment To pilgrims far away ! Upon the Rock of Ages They raise Thy holy tower; Thine is the victor's laurel, And Thine the golden dower.
Page 15 - There grief is turned to pleasure ; Such pleasure as below No human voice can utter, No human heart can know ; And after fleshly weakness, And after this world's night, And after storm and whirlwind, Are calm, and joy, and light.
Page 23 - All jubilant with song, And bright with many an angel, And all the martyr throng: The Prince is ever in them, The daylight is serene, The pastures of the blessed Are decked in glorious sheen. 3 There is the throne of David, And there, from care released, The song of them that triumph, The shout of them that feast; And they, who with their Leader Have conquered in the fight, For ever and for ever Are clad in robes of white.
Page 11 - Strive, man, to win that glory; Toil, man, to gain that light; Send hope before to grasp it, Till hope be lost in sight.
Page 119 - But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts ! Our frailties help, our vice control, Submit the senses to the soul ; And when rebellious they are grown, Then lay thy hand, and hold them down.
Page 7 - The world is very evil, The times are waxing late; Be sober and keep vigil, The Judge is at the gate, — The Judge that comes in mercy, The Judge that comes with might, To terminate the evil, To diadem the right.
Page 19 - For thee, O dear, dear country, Mine eyes their vigils keep ; For very love, beholding Thy happy name, they weep. The mention of thy glory Is unction to the breast, And medicine in sickness, And love, and life, and rest.
Page 90 - Nothing unavenged remaineth. 7 What shall I, frail man, be pleading, Who for me be interceding, When the just are mercy needing ? 8 King of majesty tremendous, Who dost free salvation send us, Fount of pity, then befriend us ! 9 Think, good Jesus, my salvation Caused Thy wondrous incarnation ; Leave me not to reprobation.
Page 94 - O place me! Nor among the goats abase me; But to Thy right hand upraise me. While the wicked are confounded, Doom'd to flames of woe unbounded, Call me! with Thy saints surrounded.
Page 99 - BY the Crofs, fad vigil keeping, Stood the mournful mother weeping, While on it the Saviour hung ; In that hour of deep diftrefs, Pierced the fword of bitternefs Through her heart with forrow wrung.

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