Some Hymns and Hymn Writers Representing All who Profess and Call Themselves Christians: Short Studies in the Hymnal of the Episcopal Church
John C. Winston Company, 1907 - 458 pages
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Some Hymns and Hymn Writers: Representing All Who Profess and Call ...
William Budd Bodine
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Page 241 - Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes; Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies: Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee; In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!
Page 152 - My faith looks up to Thee, Thou Lamb of Calvary, Saviour Divine: Now hear me while I pray, Take all my guilt away, O let me from this day Be wholly Thine.
Page 108 - JESUS, I my cross have taken, All to leave, and follow Thee; Naked, poor, despised, forsaken, Thou from hence my All shalt be. Perish, every fond ambition, All I've sought, or hoped, or known; Yet how rich is my condition ! God, and heaven, are still my own.
Page 238 - It came upon the midnight clear, That glorious song of old, From angels bending near the earth, To touch their harps of gold : "Peace on the earth, goodwill to men, From heaven's all-gracious King!
Page 24 - One family we dwell in Him, One Church above, beneath, Though now divided by the stream, The narrow stream, of death : One army of the living God, To His command we bow ; Part of His host have crossed the flood, And part are crossing now.
Page 306 - Live while you live, the Epicure would say, And seize the pleasures of the present day. Live while you live, the sacred Preacher cries, And give to God each moment as it flies.
Page 136 - O LITTLE town of Bethlehem ! How still we see thee lie ; Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by ; Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting Light ; The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee to-night.
Page 104 - ABIDE with me ; fast falls the eventide ; The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide ; When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me.
Page 222 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.