A Collection of Hymns

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author, and sold, 1834
 

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193. oldal - What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle; Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile; In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown; — The heathen in his blindness, Bows down to wood and stone.
145. oldal - Open now the crystal fountain, Whence the healing streams do flow ; Let the fiery, cloudy pillar Lead me all my journey through : Strong Deliverer, Be thou still my strength and shield.
204. oldal - 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. 3. Teach me to live, that I may dread The grave as little as my bed ; Teach me to die, that so I may Rise glorious at the awful day.
8. oldal - And press with vigour on : A heavenly race demands thy zeal, And an immortal crown. 2 A cloud of witnesses around Hold thee in full survey : Forget the steps already trod, And onward urge thy way. 3 ?Tis God's all-animating voice That calls thee from on high ; :Tis His own hand presents the prize To thine aspiring eye : 4 That prize, with peerless glories bright, Which shall new lustre boast, When victors' wreaths and monarchs' gems Shall blend in common dust.

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