Church Hymns, Or, Hymns for the Sundays, Festivals and Other Seasons of the Ecclesiastical Year: As Observed in the Church of England

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J. Masters, 1853 - 152 pages
 

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Page 108 - THE Son of God goes forth to war, A kingly crown to gain ; His blood-red banner streams afar : Who follows in his train ? Who best can drink his cup of woe, Triumphant over pain, Who patient bears his cross below — He follows in his train.
Page 138 - Jehovah's awful throne, Ye nations bow with sacred joy : Know that the Lord is God alone ; He can create, and He destroy. 2 His sovereign power, without our aid, Made...
Page 9 - Glory to the new-born KINO. Amen Christmas. Hymn 48. (SECOND TuNE). X "Glory to GOD in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men." HARK I the herald angels sing Glory to the new-born KING, Peace on earth, and mercy mild, GOD and sinners reconciled.
Page 132 - GLORY to thee, my God, this night, For all the blessings of the light ; Keep me, O keep me, King of Kings, Beneath thine own Almighty wings. 2 Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son, The ill that I this day have done ; That with the world, myself, and thee, I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.
Page 10 - Christ, by highest heaven adored, Christ, the everlasting Lord, Late in time behold Him come, Offspring of a virgin's womb. Veiled in flesh the Godhead see ; Hail, th' Incarnate Deity ! Pleased, as Man, with man to dwell, Jesus, our Immanuel.
Page 91 - 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. 3. See, from his head, his hands, his feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down : Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, Or thorns compose so rich a crown ? 4.
Page 37 - WHERE high the heavenly temple stands, The house of God, not made with hands ; A great High Priest our nature wears, The Guardian of mankind appears.
Page 45 - PLUNGED in a gulf of dark despair, We wretched sinners lay, Without one cheerful beam of hope,. Or spark of glimmering day.
Page 39 - Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! The winged squadrons of the sky Look down with sad and wondering eyes To see the approaching sacrifice.
Page 6 - Guilty now I pour my moaning, All my shame with anguish owning, Spare, O God, Thy suppliant groaning.

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