Bell's Edition: The Poets of Great Britain Complete from Chaucer to Churchill ...

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J. Bell, 1802 - English poetry
 

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Page 50 - SWEET is the work, my God, my King, To praise thy name, give thanks and sing ; To show thy love by morning light, And talk of all thy truth at night.
Page 25 - Thou art a God, before whose sight The wicked shall not stand; Sinners shall ne'er be thy delight, Nor dwell at thy right hand.
Page 118 - From all that dwell below the skies, Let the Creator's praise arise ; Let the Redeemer's name be sung, Through every land, by every tongue. 2. Eternal are thy mercies, Lord ; Eternal truth attends thy word : Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore, Till suns shall rise and set no more.
Page 58 - King. 2 He formed the deeps unknown; He gave the seas their bound; The watery worlds are all his own, And all the solid ground. 3 Come, worship at his throne, Come, bow before the Lord; We are his works, and not our own; He formed us by his word.
Page 138 - A broken heart, my God, my King, Is all the sacrifice I bring ; The God of grace will ne'er despise A broken heart for sacrifice. 6 My soul lies humbled in the dust, And owns thy dreadful sentence just ; Look down, O Lord, with pitying eye, And save the soul condemn'd to die.
Page 70 - We'll crowd thy gates with thankful songs, High as the heavens our voices raise; And earth, with her ten thousand tongues, Shall fill thy courts with sounding praise. 5 Wide as the world is thy command; Vast as eternity thy love; Firm as a rock thy truth shall stand, When rolling years shall cease to move.
Page 200 - LL praise my Maker with my breath ; And, when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall employ my nobler powers : My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last, Or immortality endures.
Page 151 - EARLY, my God, without delay, I haste to seek thy face, My thirsty spirit faints away, Without thy cheering grace. 2 So pilgrims, on the scorching sand, Beneath a burning sky, Long for a cooling stream at hand, And they must drink or die.
Page 80 - Tis he relieves thy pain. Tis he that heals thy sicknesses, And makes thee young again. 4 He crowns thy life with love, When ransom'd from the grave ; He that redeem'd my soul from hell, Hath sovereign power to save.
Page 200 - Happy the man whose hopes rely On Israel's God : He made the sky, And earth, and seas, with all their train. His truth for ever stands secure ; He saves th' oppressed, He feeds the poor, And none shall find His promise vain.

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