55 lines
2.8 KiB
HTML
55 lines
2.8 KiB
HTML
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<title>BLB Hymns</title>
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<h2>NEW EVERY MORNING IS THE LOVE</h2>
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<p align="center"><h3>“His compassions fail not. They are new every morning.” Lamentations 3:22-23</h3></p>
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<center><b>Hymns Supplied Through the Gracious Generosity<br>of the </b><a href="http://www.hymntime.com/tch/" target = "_blank"><b>Cyber Hymnal Website</b></a><br><br><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/cyberhymnal_info.html" target = "_blank">Information about Cyber Hymnal Website</a></center>
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<div align="center">
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<center>
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<table>
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<tr>
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<td><img src="./hymns/hymns_img/img_k_e_keble_j.jpg" alt="John Keble (1792-1866)" width="133.333333333333" height="200"></td>
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<td><em>Words:</em> <a href="./hymns/hymns_bio/bio_k_e_keble_j.html" target="_blank">John Keble</a>, from his poem “Hues of the Rich Unfolding Morn,” in <em>The Christian Year</em>, 1827.
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<p><em>Music:</em> “Melcombe,” Samuel Webbe, 1782 </p><p><table><tr><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_mid/mid_m_melcombe.mid" target = "_blank"><img border=0 src="./hymns/hymns_img/notes.gif"><br><b>Play MIDI</b></a></td><td> </td><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/score_info.html" target = "_blank"><b>Link to obtain<br>musical score info</b></a></td></tr></table></p>
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<td><img src="./hymns/hymns_img/img_w_e_webbe_s_sr.gif" alt="Samuel Webbe, Sr. (1740-1816)" width="124" height="165.333333333333"></td>
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</table>
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</center>
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<div class="lyrics">
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<p>New every morning is the love<br>
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Our wakening and uprising prove;<br>
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Through sleep and darkness safely brought,<br>
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Restored to life and power and thought.</p>
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<p>New mercies, each returning day,<br>
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Hover around us while we pray;<br>
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New perils past, new sins forgiven,<br>
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New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven.</p>
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<p>If, on our daily course, our mind<br>
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Be set to hallow all we find,<br>
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New treasures still, of countless price,<br>
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God will provide for sacrifice.</p>
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<p>Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be,<br>
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As more of heaven in each we see;<br>
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Some softening gleam of love and prayer<br>
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Shall dawn on every cross and care.</p>
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<p>The trivial round, the common task,<br>
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Will furnish all we ought to ask;<br>
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Room to deny ourselves, a road<br>
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To bring us daily nearer God.</p>
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<p>Seek we no more; content with these,<br>
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Let present rapture, comfort, ease—<br>
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As heaven shall bid them, come and go:<br>
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The secret this of rest below.</p>
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<p>Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love,<br>
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Fit us for perfect rest above,<br>
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And help us, this and every day,<br>
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To live more nearly as we pray.</p>
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</div>
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