Augsburg Songs: For Sunday Schools and Other Services

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Lutheran Publication Society, 1885 - 208 Seiten
 

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Seite 199 - In his hand are the deep places of the earth : The strength of the hills is his also. The sea is his, and he made it : And his hands formed the dry land.
Seite 10 - Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea ; Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof.
Seite 85 - 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.
Seite 14 - Bless the LORD, ye his angels, that excel in strength, that do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word. 21 Bless ye the LORD, all ye his hosts ; ye ministers of his, that do his pleasure.
Seite 107 - Waft, waft, ye winds, his story, And you, ye waters, roll, Till, like a sea of glory, It spreads from pole to pole ; Till o'er our ransomed nature, The Lamb for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign ! HEBEK.
Seite 107 - FROM Greenland's icy mountains, From India's coral strand; Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand; From many an ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain.
Seite 10 - There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High. 5 God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved: God shall help her, and that right early.
Seite 161 - Are there no foes for me to face ? Must I not stem the flood ? Is this vile world a friend to grace, To help me on to God...
Seite 24 - ALL hail the power of Jesus' name ! Let angels prostrate fall : Bring forth the royal diadem, And crown Him Lord of all.
Seite 83 - E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming love has been my theme, And shall be till I die. 5 Then in a nobler, sweeter song I'll sing Thy power to save, When this poor lisping, stammering tongue Lies silent in the grave.

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