Lyra Anglicana, hymns collected by R.H. Baynes |
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˹éÒ 54 - I have no help but Thine ; nor do I need Another arm save Thine to lean upon ; It is enough, my Lord, enough indeed ; My strength is in Thy might, Thy might alone.
˹éÒ 4 - With the incarnate Son of God. O lonely tomb in Moab's land! O dark Beth-peor's hill! Speak to these curious hearts of ours, And teach them to be still: God hath his mysteries of grace, Ways that we cannot tell, He hides them deep, like the secret sleep Of him he loved so well.
˹éÒ 1 - BY Nebo's lonely mountain, On this side Jordan's wave, In a vale in the land of Moab There lies a lonely grave. And no man knows that sepulchre, And no man saw it e'er, For the angels of God upturned the sod, And laid the dead man there.
˹éÒ 5 - I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou shouldst lead me on; I loved to choose and see my path; but now lead thou me on. I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, pride ruled my will: remember not past years. So long thy power hath blest me, sure it still will lead me on, o'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till the night is gone, and with the morn those angel faces smile, which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.
˹éÒ 1 - So Moses the servant of the Lord died there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord. And he buried him in a valley in the Land of Moab, over against Bethpeor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day.
˹éÒ 2 - Noiselessly as the daylight Comes back when night is done, And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek Grows into the great sun. Noiselessly as the springtime Her crown of verdure weaves, And all the trees on all the hills Open their thousand leaves...
˹éÒ 7 - Choose thou for me my friends, My sickness or my health ; Choose thou my cares for me, My poverty or wealth. Not mine, not mine the choice, In things or great or small ; Be thou my guide, my strength, My wisdom and my all.
˹éÒ 54 - Here would I feed upon the bread of God, Here drink with Thee the royal wine of heaven; Here would I lay aside each earthly load, Here taste afresh the calm of sin forgiven.
˹éÒ 57 - He is mine ! and nought of earthly things, Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or power, The fame of heroes, or the pomp of kings, Could tempt me to forego His love an hour. Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that's thine ! Go ! I my Saviour's am, and He is mine.
˹éÒ 95 - When each gem is set with care. Do not linger with regretting, Or for passing hours despond; Nor, the daily toil forgetting, Look too eagerly beyond. Hours are golden links, God's token, Reaching Heaven; but one by one Take them, lest the chain be broken Ere the pilgrimage be done.
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| ª×èÍ˹ѧÊ×Í | Lyra Anglicana, hymns collected by R.H. Baynes |
| ºÃóҸԡÒà | Robert Hall Baynes |
| ¨Ñ´¾ÔÁ¾ì | 1862 |
| µé¹©ºÑºÁÒ¨Ò¡ | Oxford University |
| á»Å§à»ç¹¢éÍÁÙÅ´Ô¨Ô·ÑÅ | 25 µ.¤. 2006 |
| Êè§ÍÍ¡¡ÒÃÍéÒ§ÍÔ§ | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |