| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
HYMNS FOR CHILDHOOD. |
197 |
|||
|
NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE.
Sabah Floweb Adams.
Nearer, my God, to thee,
Nearer to thee! E'en though it be a cross
That raiseth ine; Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to thee,
Nearer to thee!
Though like the wanderer,
The sun gone down, Darkness be over me,
My rest a stone ; Yet in my dreams I'd be Nearer, my God, to thee,
Nearer to thee!
There let the way appear
Steps unto heaven; All that thou send'st to me
In mercy given; Angels to beckon me Nearer, my God, to thee,
Nearer to thee!
Then with my waking thoughts Bright with thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs Bethel I'll raise;
So by my woes to be
Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee!
Or if on joyful wing
Cleaving the sky, Sun, moon, and stars forgot,
Upward I fly, Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to thee,
Nearer to thee! |
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide; Oh, receive my soul at last!
Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless soul on thee; Leave, ah! leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me. All my trust on thee is stayed,
All my help from thee I bring; Cover my defenseless head
With the shadow of thy wing.
Thou, O Christ, art all I want;
Boundless love in thee I find: Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,
Heal the sick, and lead the blind. Just and holy is thy name,
I am all unrighteousness; Vile and full of sin I am,
Thou art full of truth and grace. |
|||
|
MY LORD, MY LOVE, WAS CRUCIFIED.
John Mason.
My Lord, my love, was crucified,
He all the pains did bear; But in the sweetness of his rest
He makes his servants share. How sweetly rest thy saints above
Which in thy bosom lie! The Church below doth rest in hope
Of that felicity.
Thou, Lord, who daily feed'st thy sheep,
Mak'st them a weekly feast; Thy flocks meet in their several folds
Upon this day of rest. Welcome and dear unto my soul
Are these sweet feasts of love; But what a Sabbath shall I keep
When I shall rest above!
I bless thy wise and wondrous love,
Which binds us to be free; Which makes us leave our earthly snares,
That we may come to thee! I come, I wait, I hear, I pray !
Thy footsteps, Lord, I trace! I sing to think this is the way
Unto my Saviour's face! |
||||
|
JESUS, LOVER OF MY SOUL.
Chables Wesley.
Jesus, lover of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly,
While the billows near me roll, . While the tempest still is high. |
||||