THE POETICAL WORKS OF REGINALD HEBER

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Page 87 - From India's coral strand ; Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand; From many an ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain. 2 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.
Page 69 - Holy, Holy, Holy ! though the darkness hide Thee, Though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may not see, Only Thou art Holy : there is none beside Thee, Perfect in power, in love, and purity. 4 Holy, Holy, Holy ! Lord God Almighty...
Page 51 - Brightest and best of the sons of the morning ! Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid ! Star of the east, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid...
Page 51 - Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion, Odors of Edom, and offerings divine, Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean, Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine ? 4 Vainly we offer each ample oblation, Vainly with gifts would His favor secure ; Richer, by far, is the heart's adoration, Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.
Page 87 - Waft, waft, ye winds, His story, And you, ye waters, roll, Till, like a sea of glory, It spreads from pole to pole ; Till o'er our ransomed nature The Lamb for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign.
Page 88 - BREAD of the world, in mercy broken, Wine of the soul, in mercy shed, By Whom th.e words of life were spoken, And in Whose death our sins are dead ; 2 Look on the heart by sorrow broken, Look on the tears by sinners shed ; And be Thy feast to us the token That by Thy grace our souls are fed.
Page 50 - BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning! Dawn on our darkness and lend us Thine aid! Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!
Page 75 - The birds that wake the morning, and those that love the shade ; The winds that sweep the mountain, or lull the drowsy glade: The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on his way, The moon, and stars, their Maker's name in silent pomp display. Shall man the lord of nature, expectant of the sky,— Shall man alone unthankful, his little praise deny?
Page 91 - Thou art gone to the grave ! we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side; But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may die, for the SINLESS has died ! 3 Thou art gone to the grave! and its mansion forsaking, Perchance thy weak spirit in fear linger'd long ; But the mild rays of Paradise beam'd on thy waking, And the sound which thou heardst was the seraphim's song.
Page 292 - Mid Nature's embers, parched and dry, Where o'er some tower in ruin laid, The peepul spreads its haunted shade ; Or round a tomb his scales to wreathe, Fit warder in the gate of death ! Come on ! Yet pause! behold us now Beneath the bamboo's arched bough...

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