Hymns for little children, by the author of 'The lord of the forest'. |
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Angels believe better blessed Blood born bright brightly CHRIST Christian child Christian children Church danger day by day dead dear died earth eyes face fair fall FATHER feeds feel feet flowers forgive gentle Ghost give given glorious God's Grace grave green grow Hallow hand happy head hear heart Heaven Hold Holy honour hour HYMN keep kind KING knee kneel lambs land lead light Listen little birds little children little Christian looks LORD lowly meet merry mild morn mothers Name never night once pain play poor praise pray prayer PROMISE quiet rest rich round Saints SAVIOUR seek serve side Sing sins soft songs soul Speak SPIRIT stand stone Sure sweet teach tempt Thee Thine things Thou thoughts Throne to-day true turn unseen voice watch wicked worship
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10 ÆäÀÌÁö - He died that we might be forgiven, He died to make us good, That we might go at last to heaven, Saved by his precious blood.
20 ÆäÀÌÁö - All who do the right : Holy children there shall stand In their robes of white ; For that Heaven, so bright and blest, Is our everlasting rest.
9 ÆäÀÌÁö - For he is our childhood's pattern, day by day like us he grew, he was little, weak, and helpless, tears and smiles like us he knew; and he feeleth for our sadness, and he shareth in our gladness.
9 ÆäÀÌÁö - And our eyes at last shall see Him, Through His own redeeming love, For that Child so dear and gentle Is our Lord in heaven above ; And He leads His children on To the place where He is gone.
19 ÆäÀÌÁö - tis never-ending day. Every spring the sweet young flowers Open bright and gay, Till the chilly autumn hours Wither them away. There's a land we have not seen Where the trees are always green. Little birds sing songs of praise All the summer long, But in colder, shorter days They forget their song.
18 ÆäÀÌÁö - WITHIN the churchyard side by side, Are many long low graves, And some have stones set over them, — On some the green grass waves. Full many a little Christian child, Woman and man, lies there ; And we pass by them every time When we go in to prayer.
9 ÆäÀÌÁö - There is a green hill far away, Without a city wall, Where the dear Lord was crucified Who died to save us all. We may not know, we cannot tell, What pains He had to bear, But we believe it was for us, He hung and suffered there.
20 ÆäÀÌÁö - Little birds sing songs of praise, All the summer long ; But in colder shorter days, They forget their song. There's a place where angels sing, Ceaseless praises to their King.