Songs in the Night: Or, Hymns for the Sick and Suffering

כריכה קדמית
S.K. Whipple and Company, 1858 - 288 עמודים

מתוך הספר

מה אומרים אנשים - כתיבת ביקורת

לא מצאנו ביקורות במקומות הרגילים

עמודים נבחרים

תוכן

מהדורות אחרות - הצג הכל

מונחים וביטויים נפוצים

קטעים בולטים

עמוד 153 - For we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened : not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life.
עמוד ix - Although affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth trouble spring out of the ground ; Yet man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward.
עמוד 27 - Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind ; Sight, riches, healing of the mind, Yea, all I need, in Thee to find, O Lamb of God, I come...
עמוד xvi - Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant, Make you perfect in every good work to do his will, working in you that which is wellpleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ ; to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.
עמוד 78 - If Thou shouldst call me to resign What most I prize, it ne'er was mine ; I only yield Thee what is Thine : "Thy will be done.
עמוד 27 - Just as I am, and waiting not To rid my soul of one dark blot, To Thee, whose Blood can cleanse each spot O Lamb of God, I come...
עמוד 125 - O LORD ! how happy should we be If we could cast our care on thee, — If we from self could rest; And feel at heart, that one above In perfect wisdom, perfect love, Is working for the best.
עמוד ix - Wherefore doth a living man complain, a man for the punishment of his sins? Let us search and try our ways, and turn again to the Lord.
עמוד 177 - Weak is the effort of my heart, And cold my warmest thought ; But when I see thee as thou art, I'll praise thee as I ought.
עמוד 207 - Not there, not there, my child." Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies, Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange bright birds, on their starry wings, Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ? " Not there, not there, my child.

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