The book of sacred song . GO NOT FAR FROM ME, O LORD. Y heart is fiVd, O God, my strength,My heart is strong to bear:I will be joyful in Thy love,And peaceful in Thy care :Deal with me for my Saviours sake,According to His prayer. But go not far from me, my strength, Whom all my times obey;Take from me anything Thou wilt, But go not Thou away; 32C THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. And let the storm that doth Thy work,Deal with me as it may. There is no death for me to fear,For Christ, my Lord, hath died; There is no curse in this my pain,For He was crucified; And it is fellowship with Him,That keeps me
The book of sacred song . GO NOT FAR FROM ME, O LORD. Y heart is fiVd, O God, my strength,My heart is strong to bear:I will be joyful in Thy love,And peaceful in Thy care :Deal with me for my Saviours sake,According to His prayer. But go not far from me, my strength, Whom all my times obey;Take from me anything Thou wilt, But go not Thou away; 32C THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. And let the storm that doth Thy work,Deal with me as it may. There is no death for me to fear,For Christ, my Lord, hath died; There is no curse in this my pain,For He was crucified; And it is fellowship with Him,That keeps me near His side. Happy are they that learn in Thee,Though patient suffering teach The secret of enduring strength,And praise too deep for speech; Praise that no pressure from strife within can reach. AND ONE SAT ON THE THRONE. P ! at Thy feet Thy children fall,Spirit! Redeemer ! God !Thou hast, we know, a heart for allThy saints, who in lifes ordealHave oer the ploughshares trod!. modern: anonymous. 321 Who would approach Thee in Thy mipht Of power? self-citadePd,If the three-chorded arch, whose heightOercrowns Thee with its chrysolite, Should glitter unbeheld ! But lo ! Hope beams above Thy head, That everlasting door,Through which the humblest prayer is sped,That ever, from a heart that bled, Was utterM by the poor. Father, Thou knowest what we seek, Why tangle it with words ?We leave it to our souls to speak,In quivering eye and kindling cheek ; Such language is the Lords ! For ransomd suppliants, tis vain To sever praise from prayer ;Our lips, if parted to complain,Find, as they open, that a strain Of gratitude is there ! But oh ! the glory of that ray,We veil our eyes before :21 321 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. The only homage we can payIs just to look and turn away,To whisper and adore ! HOLD THOU ME UP, AND I SHALL BE SAFE.
Size: 1611px × 1551px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, booksubjectenglishpoetry, booksubjectreligiousp
