Selections of Religious Poetry

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Henry Longstreth, 1853 - 182 oldal

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161. oldal - The dearest idol I have known, Whate'er that idol be, Help me to tear it from thy throne, And worship only Thee. So shall my walk be close with God, Calm and serene my frame ; So purer light shall mark the road That leads me to the
8. oldal - 0 Lamb of God, I come. Just as I am—poor, wretched, blind : Sight, riches, healing of the mind, Yea, all I need, in Thee to find, 0 Lamb of God, I come. Just as I am, thou wilt receive, Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve, Because thy promise I believe— 0 Lamb of God, I come. Just as I am—thy love
152. oldal - And a heart at leisure from itself, To soothe and sympathise. I would not have the restless will That hurries to and fro, Seeking for some great thing to do, Or secret thing to know; I would be dealt with as a child And guided where to go. Wherever in the world I am, In
122. oldal - shall break In blessings on your head. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace, His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower. \ Blind unbelief is sure to err, And
32. oldal - taught, Thy will be done. What tho' in lonely grief I sigh For friends beloved no longer nigh, Submissive still I would reply, Thy will be done. If thou shouldst call me to resign What most I prize, it ne'er was mine, I only yield thee what was Thine,
85. oldal - Friend of the friendless and the faint! Where shall I lodge my deep complaint? Where but with Thee, whose open door, Invites the helpless and the poor. Did ever mourner plead with Thee, And Thou refuse that mourner's plea ? Does not the word still fixed remain, That none shall seek thy face in vain
41. oldal - with the Lord !" Amen—so let it be ! Life from the dead is in that word, 'Tis immortality. Here in the body pent, Absent from Him I roam, Yet nightly pitch my moving tent, A day's march nearer home. My Father's
40. oldal - Men may trouble and distress me, 'Twill but drive me to thy breast; Life with trials hard may press me, Heaven will bring me sweeter rest. Oh, 'tis not in grief to harm me, While thy love is left to me
72. oldal - 29. Thy neighbour ? It is he whom thou Hast power to aid and bless, Whose aching heart or burning brow Thy soothing hand may press. Thy neighbour ? 'Tis the fainting poor, Whose eye with want is dim, Whom hunger sends from door to door; Go thou, and succour him. Thy neighbour ? 'Tis that weary man,
124. oldal - My Saviour, whom absent, I love; Whom, not having seen, I adore, Whose name is exalted above All glory, dominion and power: Dissolve thou these bonds that detain My soul from her portion in Thee; Oh ! strike off this adamant chain, And set me eternally free. When that happy era begins, When array'd in thy

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