Category: SONGS OF PRAISE

THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there! There is no fireside, howsoe’er defended, But has one vacant chair!

THE Royal Banners forward go; The Cross shines forth in mystic glow; Where He in flesh, our flesh Who made, Our sentence bore, our ransom

The welcome flowers are blossoming, In joyous troops revealed; They lift their dewy buds and bells In garden, mead, and field: They lurk in every

“Glory be to God on high!” Such the wondrous story: Hark! an earthly echo hears And sends back — the “Glory!” “Peace on earth! good

DARK night broods o’er the city, Veiling the Temple’s sheen, And o’er the fields where shepherds keep Their sheep in Palestine. Dark night is on

I LIKE that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls The burial-ground God’s-Acre! It is just: It consecrates each grave within its walls, And breathes a benison