A selection of Psalms and hymns for a parish church

Priekinis viršelis
G.W. Wetton, 1812 - 60 psl.
 

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Populiarios ištraukos

2 psl. - HARK, the herald angels sing, Glory to the new-born King, Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled. Joyful, all ye nations, rise, Join the triumph of the skies, With th' angelic host proclaim, Christ is born in Bethlehem.
4 psl. - And nightly to the list'ning earth Repeats the story of her birth : Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
5 psl. - And feed me with a shepherd's care ; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye : My noon-day walks he shall attend, And all my midnight hours defend.
18 psl. - Other refuge have I none, — Hangs my helpless soul on Thee ; Leave, ah ! leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me ! All my trust on Thee is stayed, All my help from Thee I bring ; Cover my defenceless head With the shadow of Thy wing.
16 psl. - A thousand ages in Thy sight Are like an evening gone; Short as the watch that ends the night Before the rising sun.
9 psl. - To be exalted thus :" — " Worthy the Lamb," our lips reply,
12 psl. - I'll abide ; Thou art the tower of my defence, The refuge where I hide. 4 Thou givest me the lot Of those that fear thy name ; If endless life be their reward, I shall possess the same. G2
2 psl. - Father's throne Our songs and our complaints. 3 Thou art a God before whose sight The wicked shall not stand ; Sinners shall ne'er be thy delight, Nor dwell at thy right hand. 4...
2 psl. - Prince of peace ! Hail, the Sun of righteousness ! Light and life to all He brings, Risen with healing in His wings : Mild He lays His glory by, Born that man no more may die ; Born to raise the sons of earth ; Born to give them second birth.
6 psl. - The calm retreat, the silent shade, With prayer and praise agree, And seem by thy sweet bounty made, For those who follow thee. 3 There if thy Spirit touch the soul, And grace her mean abode, Oh ! with what peace, and joy, and love, She communes with her God. 4 There, like the nightingale, she pours Her solitary lays, Nor asks a witness of her song, Nor thirsts for human praise.

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