מה אומרים אנשים - כתיבת ביקורת
לא מצאנו ביקורות במקומות הרגילים
adore angels bear bless blest blood breath bright bring cheer Christ comes cross crown dark dear death divine dwell earth eternal evermore eyes face faint faith fall Father fear feet flow foes Friend Ghost give given glad glorious glory grace grief hand hath hear heart heaven heavenly holy hope host hour ISAAC WATTS Jesus JOHN join keep King Lamb land lead lift light live Lord meet Name never night o'er pain pass peace praise pray prayer raise reign rest rise saints salvation Saviour seek shine sing sins skies song Soon sorrow soul Spirit stand strength sweet tears Thee Thine things Thou art Thou hast thought throne Thy love Thy Name tongue trust truth unto voice wait wandering wings
עמוד 175 - E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me; Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to Thee.
עמוד 90 - Beyond this vale of tears There is a life above, Unmeasured by the flight of years; And all that life is love.
עמוד 50 - Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, Save in the death of Christ my God; All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.
עמוד 74 - Finish, then, Thy new creation; Pure and spotless let us be: Let us see Thy great salvation Perfectly restored in Thee; Changed from glory into glory, Till in heaven we take our place, Till we cast our crowns before Thee, Lost in wonder, love, and praise.
עמוד 25 - I need thy presence every passing hour ; What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power ? Who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be ? Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
עמוד 32 - Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread, Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.
עמוד 72 - COME, let us join our cheerful songs, With angels round the throne ; Ten thousand thousand are their tongues, But all their joys are one. 2 " Worthy the Lamb that died," they cry, " To be exalted thus :" — " Worthy the Lamb," our lips reply,
עמוד 199 - What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle ; Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile ; In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown ; The heathen, in his blindness, Bows down to wood and stone.