The Wesleyan juvenile offering, Volumen17

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Página 67 - WATCHMAN, tell us of the night, What its signs of promise are. Traveller, o'er yon mountain's height See that glory-beaming star ! Watchman, does its beauteous ray Aught of hope or joy foretell ? Traveller, yes ; it brings the day, Promised day of Israel. 2 Watchman, tell us of the night ; Higher yet that star ascends.
Página 40 - Thou hast multiplied the nation, and not increased the joy : They joy before thee according to the joy in harvest, And as men rejoice when they divide the spoil.
Página 115 - There shall be an handful of corn in the earth upon the top of the mountains ; the fruit thereof shall shake like Lebanon : and they of the city shall flourish like grass of the earth.
Página 129 - BROTHER, thou art gone before us, and thy saintly soul is flown Where tears are wiped from every eye, and sorrow is unknown ; From the burden of the flesh, and from care and fear released, Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.
Página 129 - Sin can never taint thee now, Nor doubt thy faith assail, Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ And the Holy Spirit fail ; And...
Página 114 - Wandering o'er the heathy fells, Down within the woodland dells ; All among the mountains wild Dwelleth many a little child ! In the baron's hall of pride, By the poor man's dull fireside ; 'Mid the mighty, 'mid the mean, Little children may be seen, Like the flowers that spring up fair, Bright and countless, everywhere!
Página 52 - I came. Do you mourn when another star Shines out from the glittering sky ? Do you weep when the raging voice of war, And the storms of conflict die ? Then, why should your tears run down, And your hearts be sorely riven, For another gem in the Saviour's crown, And another soul in heaven...
Página 5 - T^ROM heaven above to earth I come •*• To bear good news to every home , Glad tidings of great joy I bring, Whereof I now will say and sing.
Página 52 - And the glorious walls of heaven still ring With my new-born melody. No sin, no grief, no pain ; Safe in my happy home: My fears all fled, my doubts all slain, My hour of triumph come.
Página 6 - Were earth a thousand times as fair, Beset with gold and jewels rare, She yet were far too poor to be A narrow cradle, Lord, for Thee.

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