Christ at the Door

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A. D. F. Randolph, 1872 - Christian poetry, American - 232 pages
 

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Page 218 - Abide with me ; fast falls the even-tide ; The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide ; When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me. Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ; Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away : Change and decay in all around I see ; 0 Thou Who changest not, abide with me.
Page 193 - LOVE divine, all love excelling, Joy of heaven, to earth come down, Fix in us Thy humble dwelling, All Thy faithful mercies crown ! Jesus, Thou art all compassion, Pure, unbounded love, Thou art ! Visit us with Thy salvation, Enter every trembling heart.
Page 50 - Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me. To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down with my Father in his throne. He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches.
Page 49 - And unto the angel of the Church of the Laodiceans write ; These things saith the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of the creation of God : 15 I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot : I would thou wert cold or hot.
Page 31 - BEHOL.D a Stranger at the door! He gently knocks, has knocked before, Has waited long, is waiting still; You treat no other friend so ill.
Page 11 - I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying: Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.
Page 192 - COME, dearest Lord, descend and dwell By faith and love in every breast ; Then shall we know, and taste, and feel, The joys that cannot be expressed.
Page 219 - Through cloud and sunshine, oh, abide with me ! I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless ; Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness ; Where is Death's sting ? where, Grave, thy victory? I triumph still, if thou abide...
Page 8 - Dark and cheerless is the morn Unaccompanied by thee ; Joyless is the day's return, Till thy mercy's beams I see ; Till they inward light impart, Glad my eyes, and warm my heart.
Page 219 - Thou on my head in early youth didst smile; And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile, Thou hast not left me, oft as I left thee, On to the close, O Lord, abide with me ! I need thy presence every passing hour; What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power?

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