The Eolian Harp: A Collection of Hymns and Tunes for Sunday Schools and Band of Hope Meetings

J.P. Magee, 1862 - 144 ˹

Դ繨ҡ - ¹Ԩó

辺Ԩó 觢ŷ


˹ 131 - Travelling through this wilderness. 2 Thanks we give, and adoration, For thy gospel's joyful sound; May the fruits of thy salvation In our hearts and lives abound : May thy presence With us evermore be found. 3 So, whene'er the signal's given, Us from earth to call away, Borne on angels...
˹ 95 - My native country! thee, Land of the noble free, Thy name I love; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills; My heart with rapture thrills, .Like that above.
˹ 82 - As the winged arrow flies, Speedily the mark to find ; As the lightning from the skies Darts, and leaves no trace behind ; Swiftly thus our fleeting days Bear us down life's rapid stream.
˹ 59 - Jesus, hear our humble prayer ! Tender Shepherd of thy sheep ! Let thy mercy and thy care All our souls in safety keep'.
˹ 51 - In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me : As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on.
˹ 53 - Deep horror then my vitals froze, Deathstruck, I ceased the tide to stem ; When suddenly a star arose, It was the Star of Bethlehem.
˹ 87 - Plenteous grace with Thee is found, Grace to pardon all my sin ; Let the healing streams abound, Make and keep me pure within.
˹ 55 - When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie, My grace all-sufficient shall be thy supply ; The flame shall not hurt thee, I only design Thy dross to consume, and thy gold to refine.
˹ 117 - THERE is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign ; Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain. 2 There everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers ; Death, like a narrow sea, divides This heavenly land from ours.
˹ 74 - Mid the springing grass prepare. 2 When I faint with summer's heat, Thou shalt guide my weary feet, To the streams that, still and slow, Through the verdant meadows flow. 3 Safe the dreary vale I tread, By the shades of death o'erspread, With thy rod and staff supplied, This my guard and that my guide.