The Sunday school union hymn book

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20 psl. - BEFORE Jehovah's awful throne, Ye nations bow with sacred joy : Know that the Lord is God alone ; He can create, and he destroy. 2 His sovereign power, without our aid, Made us of clay, and formed us men ; And when, like wandering sheep, we strayed, He brought us to his fold again.
342 psl. - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
263 psl. - Come near and bless us when we wake, Ere through the world our way we take ; Till in the ocean of Thy love We lose ourselves in Heaven above.
155 psl. - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear ; The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
310 psl. - He comes the broken heart to bind, The bleeding soul to cure ; And with the treasures of His grace To enrich the humble poor.
117 psl. - THERE is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign ; Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain. 2 There everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers ; Death, like a narrow sea, divides This heavenly land from ours. 3 Sweet fields, beyond the swelling flood, Stand dressed in living green ; So to the Jews old Canaan stood, While Jordan rolled between.
41 psl. - To be exalted thus :" "Worthy the LAMB," our lips reply, For He was slain for us.
87 psl. - SAVIOUR, breathe an evening blessing, Ere repose our spirits seal ; Sin and want we come confessing; Thou canst save and thou canst heal. 2 Though destruction walk around us, Though the arrows past us fly, Angel guards from thee surround us; We are safe, If thou art nigh.
169 psl. - People and realms of every tongue Dwell on His love with sweetest song; And infant voices shall proclaim Their early blessings on His name. Blessings abound where'er He reigns; The prisoner leaps to lose his chains; The weary find eternal rest, And all the sons of want are blest.
167 psl. - The hand that gave it still supplies The gracious light and heat : His truths upon the nations rise, They rise, but never set.

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