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Autres éditions - Tout afficher
angels beams bear beauty beneath blessed bliss breast breath bright brow child clouds comes crown dark death deep divine doth earth eternal face fair faith fall Father fear feel fire flowers gentle give glorious glory God's grace hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven heavenly holy hope hour hymn keep land leave light live look Lord meet mind morning move nature never night o'er once pass peace praise prayer pure raise rest rise round shade shine sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound speak spirit spread spring stand stars stream sweet tears thee thine things thou thou art thoughts throne tongue true truth unto voice wave weary winds wings
Page 521 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh ; The falling of a tear ; The upward glancing of an eye When none but God is near.
Page 532 - Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again...
Page 117 - God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
Page 177 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Page 190 - New mercies each returning day Hover around us while we pray ; New perils past, new sins forgiven, New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven.
Page 178 - On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Page 363 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear. A lily of a day Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall and die that night; It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures life may perfect be.
Page 113 - Should fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song ! where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on th...
Page 380 - The indorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a friend, and with his blood ; The couch of time ; care's balm and bay ; The week were dark, but for thy light. Thy torch doth show the way.