The sacred minstrel, a collection of spiritual songs, with biographical sketches of the authors, by C. Rogers

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Charles Rogers
s.n., 1859
 

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178. oldal - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
24. oldal - HOW sweet the Name of Jesus sounds In a believer's ear ! It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds, And drives away his fear. 2 It makes the wounded spirit whole, And calms the troubled breast ; 'Tis manna to the hungry soul, And to the weary rest.
82. oldal - BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid; Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.
7. oldal - GOD moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform ; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm. Deep in unfathomable mines Of never-failing skill, He treasures up his bright designs, And works his sovereign will.
17. oldal - COME, let us join our cheerful songs With angels round the throne ; Ten thousand thousand are their tongues, But all their joys are one. 2 Worthy the Lamb that died, they cry, To be exalted thus : Worthy the Lamb, our lips reply, For he was slain for us.
76. oldal - THOU art, O God, the life and light Of all this wondrous world we see ; Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from Thee : Where'er we turn, Thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are Thine.
xii. oldal - Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth : While all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
7. oldal - Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.
76. oldal - The friends, who in our sunshine live, When winter comes, are flown; And he who has but tears to give, Must weep those tears alone.
12. oldal - Restraining prayer, we cease to fight ; Prayer makes the Christian's armour bright : And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.

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