The sacred honors of the Lord;
None but the soul that feels his grace
Can triumph in his holiness.
Watts.
63
L. M.
God in all.
There’s nothing bright, above, below,
From flowers that bloom to stars that glow,
But in its light my soul can see
The sacred honors of the Lord;
None but the soul that feels his grace
Can triumph in his holiness.
Watts.
L. M.
God in all.
There’s nothing bright, above, below,
From flowers that bloom to stars that glow,
But in its light my soul can see