Singers and Songs of the Church: Being Biographical Sketches of the Hymn-writers in All the Principal Collections : with Notes on Their Psalms and Hymns

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Longmans, Green, 1869 - 617 Seiten
 

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Seite 75 - The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied In Liberty's defence, my noble task, Of which all Europe rings from side to side. This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask Content though blind, had I no better guide.
Seite 194 - Now therefore, behold, the Lord bringeth up upon them the waters of the river, strong and many, even the king of Assyria, and all his glory: and he shall come up over all his channels, and go over all his banks: 8.
Seite 149 - Twas this deprived my soul of rest, And rais'd such tumults in my breast ; For while I gaz'd, in transport tost, My breath was gone, my voice was lost : My bosom glow'd ; the subtle flame Ran quick through all my vital frame ; O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung ; My ears with hollow murmurs rung. In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd ; My blood with gentle horrors thrill'd ; My feeble pulse forgot to play ; I fainted, sunk, and died away.
Seite 346 - O Spirit of the Lord, prepare All the round earth her God to meet : Breathe Thou abroad, like morning air, Till hearts of stone begin to beat. 5 Baptize the nations ; far and nigh The triumphs of the cross record: The name of Jesus glorify, Till every kindred call Him Lord.
Seite 74 - This is owing to you, for you put it into my head by the question you put to me at Chalfont, which before I had not thought of.
Seite 186 - In these hymns there is no doggerel; no botches; nothing put in to patch up the rhyme; no feeble expletives. Here is nothing turgid or bombast, on the one hand, or low and creeping on the other. Here are no cant expressions, no words without meaning.
Seite 41 - Into thy hands I commend my spirit: thou hast redeemed me, O Lord, the God of truth.
Seite 63 - A PRIEST TO THE TEMPLE ; or, the Country Parson ; his Character, and Rule of Holy Life.
Seite 172 - When death o'er nature shall prevail, And all its powers of language fail, Joy through my swimming eyes shall break, And mean the thanks I cannot speak.
Seite 140 - Let cares like a wild deluge come, And storms of sorrow fall ; May I but safely reach my home, My God, my heaven, my all : 4 There shall I bathe my weary soul, In seas of heavenly rest, And not a wave of trouble roll Across my peaceful breast.

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