Puslapio vaizdai
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There is a world above
Where parting is unknown;
A long eternity of love,

Formed for the good alone :
And faith beholds the dying here
Translated to that glorious sphere!

Thus star by star declines,
Till all are passed away;

As morning high and higher shines
To pure and perfect day;
Nor sink those stars in empty night,
But hide themselves in heaven's own light.

PRAISE FROM ALL MANKIND.-L. M.

From all that dwell below the skies
Let the Creator's praise arise;
Let the Redeemer's name be sung
Through every land by every tongue.

Eternal are Thy mercies, Lord!
Eternal truth attends Thy Word;
Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore,
Till suns shall rise and set no more.

MISSIONARY HYMN.

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.

What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft on Ceylon's isle ;
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile!
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strewn,
The heathen in his blindness

Bows down to wood and stone.

Shall we whose souls are lighted
With wisdom from on high,
Shall we to man benighted
The lamp of life deny ?
Salvation! oh, salvation!
The joyful sound proclaim,
Till each remotest nation

Has learned Messiah's name.

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 ransom'd nature
The Lamb for sinners slain,
Redeemer, King, Creator,
In bliss returns to reign!

BISHOP HEBER.

GIVE ME A DRAUGHT.

Give me a draught from the crystal spring,
When the burning sun is high;

When the rocks and the woods their shadows fling
Where the pearls and the pebbles lie.

Give me a draught from the crystal spring,
When the cooling breezes blow;

When the leaves of the trees are withering
From the frost and the fleecy snow.

Give me a draught from the crystal spring,
When the wintry winds are gone;

When the flowers are in bloom, and the echoes ring
From the woods o'er the verdant lawn.

Give me a draught from the crystal spring,
When the ripening fruits appear;
When the reapers the song of the harvest sing,
And plenty has crowned the year.

Give me a draught from the crystal spring,
And the same from day to day:

But if aught from the worm of the still you bring,
I will pour every drop away.

HYMN ON RETIRING TO REST.-L. M.
"I will both lay me down...and sleep."-Psalm iv. 8.
Glory to Thee, my God, this night,
For all the blessings of the light.
Keep me, oh, keep me, King of kings!
Beneath Thy own Almighty wings.

Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son, The ill that I this day have done; That with the world, myself, and Thee, I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.

Teach me to live that I may dread
The grave as little as my bed:
Teach me to die that so I may
Rise glorious at the judgment-day.

Oh, may my soul on Thee repose,
And with sweet sleep mine eyelids close;
Sleep that may me more vigorous make,
To serve my God when I awake.

When in the night I sleepless lie,
My soul with heavenly thoughts supply:
Let no ill dreams disturb my rest,
Nor powers of darkness me molest.

Oh when shall I in endless day,
For ever chase dark sleep away,
And hymns, with the supernal choir,
Incessant sing and never tire!

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow. Praise Him, all creatures here below: Praise Him above, ye heavenly host: Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

ZION, CITY OF OUR GOD.-P. M.

Psalm lxxxvii. 3.

Glorious things of thee are spoken,
Zion, city of our God;

He whose word cannot be broken,
Formed thee for his own abode :
On the rock of ages founded,

What can shake thy sure repose? With salvation's walls surrounded, Thou mayest smile at all thy foes.

See! the streams of living water,
Springing from eternal love,
Well supply thy sons and daughters,
And all fear of want remove:
Who can faint while such a river

Ever flows their thirst to assuage? Grace, which like the Lord, the giver, Never fails from age to age.

TALENTS.-P. M.

All have their Duties.

God entrusts to all

Talents few or many;

None so young and small

That they have not any.

Though the great and wise
Have a greater number,

Yet my one I prize,

And it must not slumber.

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