Paul Gerhardt as a Hymn Writer and His Influence on English Hymnody

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Yale University Press, 1918 - 169 من الصفحات

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الصفحة 139 - GOD is my strong salvation, What foe have I to fear ? In darkness and temptation, My light, my help is near : Though hosts encamp around me, Firm to the fight I stand ; What terror can confound me, With God at my right hand...
الصفحة 98 - Nox erat, et placidum carpebant fessa soporem Corpora per terras, silvaeque et saeva quierant Aequora, cum medio volvuntur sidera lapsu, Cum tacet omnis ager, pecudes, pictaeque volucres, 525 Quaeque lacus late liquidos, quaeque aspera dumis Rura tenent, somno positae sub nocte silenti Lenibant curas, et corda oblita laborum.
الصفحة 93 - What language shall I borrow To thank thee, dearest Friend, For this thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end ? O make me thine for ever; And should I fainting be, Lord, let me never, never Outlive my love to thee.
الصفحة 140 - He sendeth sun, he sendeth shower, Alike they're needful for the flower ; And joys and tears alike are sent To give the soul fit nourishment: As comes to me or cloud or sun, Father, thy will, not mine, be done ! Can loving children e'er reprove With murmurs whom they trust and love?
الصفحة 93 - What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered was all for sinners' gain; Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain. Lo, here I fall, my Savior!
الصفحة 93 - m dying, O show thy cross to me ; And, for my succor flying, Come, Lord, and set me free: These eyes, new faith receiving, From Jesus shall not move ; For he who dies believing, Dies safely, through thy love.
الصفحة 124 - Give to the winds thy fears ; Hope, and be undismayed; God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears, God shall lift up thy head. Through waves and clouds and storms He gently clears thy way; Wait thou His time, so shall this night Soon end in joyous day.
الصفحة 141 - What though the tempest rage, Heaven is my home ; Short is my pilgrimage, Heaven is my home ; And time's wild wintry blast Soon will be overpast ; I shall reach home at last, Heaven is my home.
الصفحة 93 - O SACRED Head, now wounded, With grief and shame weighed down, Now scornfully surrounded With thorns, thine only crown ; O sacred Head, what glory, What bliss, till now was thine! Yet though despised and gory, I joy to call thee mine. 2 What thou, my Lord, hast suffered Was all for sinners...
الصفحة 65 - What in thy love possess I not ? My Star by night, my Sun by day, My spring of life when parched with drought, My wine to cheer, my bread to stay ; My strength, my shield, my safe abode, My robe before the throne of God.

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