Many Voices: Or Carmina Sanctorum

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Barnes, 1891 - 330 páginas
 

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Página 119 - Nothing in my hand I bring, Simply to Thy Cross I cling ; Naked, come to Thee for dress ; Helpless, look to Thee for grace ; Foul, I to the Fountain fly : Wash me, Saviour, or I die.
Página 45 - A thousand ages in thy sight Are like an evening gone ; Short as the watch that ends the night Before the rising sun.
Página 201 - Renew my will from day to day; Blend it with Thine, and take away All that now makes it hard to say, Thy will be done.
Página 52 - Cold on his cradle the dewdrops are shining, Low lies his head with the beasts of the stall, Angels adore him in slumber reclining, Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all!
Página 179 - Thou, O Christ, art all I want, More than all in thee I find ! Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, Heal the sick, and lead the blind ; Just and holy is thy name, I am all unrighteousness ; False and full of sin I am, Thou art full of truth and grace.
Página 204 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
Página 20 - Wake, and lift up thyself, my heart, And with the Angels bear thy part, Who all night long unwearied sing High praise to the Eternal King.
Página 193 - I'd be Nearer, my God, to Thee, — Nearer to Thee ! 3 There let the way appear, Steps unto heaven ; All that Thou sendest me, In mercy given : Angels to beckon me Nearer, my God, to Thee, — Nearer to Thee...
Página 167 - WAKE, my soul, stretch every nerve, •'*• And press with vigor 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.
Página 118 - Just as I am, and waiting not To rid my soul of one dark blot, To thee whose blood can cleanse each spot, O Lamb of God, I come...

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