Heavenly Echoes: A New Collection of Hymns & Tunes for Sunday Schools and Social Meetings

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C.M. Tremaine, 1867 - 127 من الصفحات

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الصفحة 87 - Sinners, whose love can ne'er forget The wormwood and the gall, Go, spread your trophies at His feet, And crown Him Lord of all.
الصفحة 88 - Nothing in my hand I bring; Simply to thy cross I cling ; Naked, come to thee for dress ; Helpless, look to thee for grace ; Foul, I to the fountain fly ; Wash me, Saviour, or I die.
الصفحة 118 - Glory be to God on high, and on earth peace, good will towards men. We praise Thee, we bless Thee, we worship Thee, we glorify Thee, we give thanks to Thee for Thy great glory, O Lord God, heavenly King, God the Father Almighty.
الصفحة 87 - SWEET hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer, That calls me from a world of care, And bids me, at my Father's throne, Make all my wants and wishes known In seasons of distress and grief, My soul has often found relief, And oft escaped the tempter's snare, By thy return, sweet hour of prayer.
الصفحة 101 - HARK ! the voice of love and mercy Sounds aloud from Calvary; See, it rends the rocks asunder, Shakes the earth and veils the sky. "It is finished!
الصفحة 105 - Work, for the night is coming, Under the sunset skies; While their bright tints are glowing, Work, for daylight flies : Work, till the last beam fadeth, Fadeth to shine no more : Work, while the night is darkening, When man's work is o'er.
الصفحة 13 - E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming love has been my theme, And shall be till I die.
الصفحة 13 - Dear dying Lamb ! thy precious blood Shall never lose its power, Till all the ransomed church of God Be saved, to sin no more.
الصفحة 88 - THE morning light is breaking, The darkness disappears ; The sons of earth are waking To penitential tears : Each breeze that sweeps the ocean Brings tidings from afar Of nations in commotion, Prepared for Zion's war.
الصفحة 120 - 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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