Glory to the Father,
Glory to the Son,
And to Thee, Blest Spirit,
Whilst all ages run.
—Unidentified.
THE LAND OF LIGHT.
That clime is not this dull clime of ours;
All, is brightness there;
A sweeter influence breathes around its flowers,
Glory to the Father,
Glory to the Son,
And to Thee, Blest Spirit,
Whilst all ages run.
—Unidentified.
That clime is not this dull clime of ours;
All, is brightness there;
A sweeter influence breathes around its flowers,