Senior Laurel Songs: For High Schools

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C.C. Birchard and Company, 1926 - 316 strani
 

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Stran 256 - By day, by night, at home, abroad, Still we are guarded by our God ; By his incessant bounty fed, By his unerring counsel led. 3 With grateful hearts the past we own ; The future all to us unknown, We to thy guardian care commit, And peaceful leave before thy feet.
Stran 278 - They climbed the steep ascent of heaven Through peril, toil, and pain : O God, to us may grace be given To follow in their train.
Stran 278 - THE Son of God goes forth to war, A kingly crown to gain : His blood-red banner streams afar : Who follows in His train?
Stran 275 - Rivers to the ocean run, Nor stay in all their course ; Fire, ascending, seeks the sun ; Both speed them to their source : So a soul, that's born of God, Pants to view His glorious face, Upward tends to His abode, To rest in His embrace.
Stran 309 - MINE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord : He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword : His truth is marching on.
Stran 275 - RISE, my soul, and stretch thy wings^ Thy better portion trace; Rise from transitory things, Towards heaven thy native place : Sun and moon and stars decay ; Time shall soon this earth remove : Rise, my soul, and haste away, To seats prepared above.
Stran 309 - How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow; There oft as mild evening weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides ; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As gathering sweet flowerets she stems thy clear wave.
Stran 260 - So long thy power hath blest me, sure it still will lead me on, o'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till the night is gone, and with the morn those angel faces smile, which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.
Stran 309 - Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides. And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As gathering sweet flowerets she stems thy clear wave. Flow gently, sweet Afton...
Stran 218 - Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' die sun : And I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands o

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