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angels beautiful bless breath bright brother child Christ comes dark dear death deep dwell earth eternal eyes faith fall Father fear feel flow flowers gentle give given glorious glory gone grace hand happy hath hear heart heaven heavenly holy hope hour Jesus joyful keep kind labour Lamb land lead leave light Little children live look Lord meet morning mother Nearer never night o'er once Onward passing path peace play poor praise pray prayer rest rise round Saviour seek shining sing sins smile song sorrow soul speak spirit spring stand star strength sweet taught teach tears tell Thee There's Thine things Thou Thou art thought throne tree trust truth voice waters weary wisdom worship young
29 psl. - Beyond the flight of time, Beyond this vale of death, There surely is some blessed clime, Where life is not a breath ; Nor life's affections transient fire, Whose sparks fly upward...
52 psl. - How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower...
98 psl. - So shall my walk be close with God, Calm and serene my frame ; So purer light shall mark the road That leads me to the Lamb.
16 psl. - 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.
61 psl. - And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side." " How many are you, then," said I, " If they two are in heaven ?" Quick was the little Maid's reply,
53 psl. - Not there, not there, my child! Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, . And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ? Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange bright birds on their starry wings, Bear the rich hues of all glorious things? Not there, not there, my child!
59 psl. - SIMPLE child That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death? I met a little cottage girl : She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad; Her eyes were fair, and very fair; Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be? " " How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
146 psl. - It was my guide, my light, my all ; It bade my dark forebodings cease ; And, through the storm and danger's thrall, It led me to the port of peace.