Amy Grant, or The one motive [by A.M. Hopton].


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Página 58 - LEAD, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home! Lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene — one step enough for me.
Página 150 - CHILDREN of the heavenly King, As ye journey, sweetly sing ; Sing your Saviour's worthy praise, Glorious in His works and ways. 2 We are travelling home to God, In the way the fathers trod ; They are happy now, and we Soon their happiness shall see. 3 Shout, ye little flock, and blest ! You on Jesus...
Página 112 - I beseech you, brethren, for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake, and for the love of the Spirit, that ye strive together with me in your prayers to God for me ; that I may be delivered from them that do not believe in Judea...
Página 32 - When with dear friends sweet talk I hold, And all the flowers of life unfold, Let not my heart within me burn, Except in all I Thee discern.
Página 173 - IN trouble and in grief, O God, Thy smile hath cheered my way; And joy hath budded from each thorn That round my footsteps lay. 2 The hours of pain have yielded good, Which prosperous days refused ; As herbs, though scentless when entire, Spread fragrance when they're bruised.
Página 125 - Come, Resignation, spirit meek, And let me kiss thy placid cheek. And read, in thy pale eye serene, Their blessing who by faith can wean Their hearts from sense, and learn to love God only, and the joys above.
Página 40 - So is it with true Christian hearts; Their mutual share in Jesus' blood An everlasting bond imparts Of holiest brotherhood: Oh! might we all our lineage prove, Give and forgive, do good and love, By soft endearments in kind strife Lightening the load of daily life...
Página 147 - THE God of glory walks his round, From day to day, from year to year, And warns us each with awful sound, " No longer stand ye idle here ! " Ye whose young cheeks are rosy bright, Whose hands are strong, whose hearts are clear, Waste not of hope the morning light ! Ah, fools ! why stand ye idle here...
Página 71 - Tis sweet, as year by year we lose Friends out of sight, in faith to muse How grows in Paradise our store. Then pass, ye mourners, cheerly on, Through prayer unto the tomb, Still, as ye watch life's falling leaf, Gathering from every loss and grief Hope of new spring and endless home.

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