Instance Results

In:instances
Text Identifier:"^im_tired_of_visits_modes_and_forms$"

Planning worship? Check out our sister site, ZeteoSearch.org, for 20+ additional resources related to your search.
Showing 21 - 29 of 29Results Per Page: 102050
Page scan

I'm tired with visits, modes and forms

Hymnal: A Selection of Psalms and Hymns #298 (1801) Languages: English
Page scan

I'm tir'd with visits modes, and forms

Hymnal: A Selection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs #S.CIV (1817) Languages: English
Page scan

I'm tir'd with visits, modes and forms

Hymnal: A Selection of Psalms and Hymns #298 (1819) Languages: English

Converse

Hymnal: The Shenandoah Harmony #15 (2012) First Line: I'm tired of visits, modes, and forms Tune Title: CONVERSE
Page scan

Converse with Christ

Author: Isaac Watts, 1674-1748 Hymnal: A Selection of Hymns, from the Best Authors #115 (1817) First Line: I'm tired with [of] visits, modes and forms Languages: English
TextPage scan

Converse with Christ

Hymnal: A Selection of Psalms and Hymns #CCXCVIII (1790) First Line: I'm tir'd with visits, modes and forms Lyrics: 1 I'm tir'd with visits, modes and forms, And flatteries paid to fellow worms Their convesation cloys: Their vain amouurs, and empty stuff: But I can ne'er enjoy enough Of thy blest company my LORD, thou life of all my joys. 2 When he begins to tell his love, Through evey vein my passions move, The captives of his tongue; In midnight shades, on frosty ground, I could attend the pleasing sound, Nor should I feel December cold, nor think the darkness long. 3 There while I hear my Saviour GOD Count o'er the sins (a heavy load) He bore upon the tree, Inward I blush with secret shame, And weep, and love, and bless the name That knew not guilt nor grief his own, but bare it all for me. 4 Next he describes the thorns he wore, And talks his bloody passion o'er, Till I am drown'd in tears: Yet with the sympathetic smart There's a strange joy beats round my heart The cursed tree has blessings in't, my sweetest balm it bears. 5 I hear the glorious sufferer tell, How on his cross he vanquish'd hell, And all the pow'rs beneath: Transported and inspir'd, my tongue Attempts his triumphs in a song: How has the serpent lost his sting, and where's thy victory, death? 6 But when he shews his hands and heart With those dear prints of dying smart He sets my soul on fire: Nor the beloved John could rest With more delight upon that breast, Nor Thomas pry into those wounds with more intense desire. 7 Kindly he opens me his ear, And bids me pour my sorrows there, And tell him all my pains: Thus while I ease my burden'd heart, In ev'ry woe he bears a part, His arms embrace me, and his hand my drooping head sustains. 8 Fly from my thoughts, all human things And sporting swains, and fighting kings, And tales of wanton love: My soul disdains that little snare The tangles of Amira's hair; Thine arms, my God, are sweeter bands, nor can my heart remove. Topics: Converse with Christ Languages: English
Text

Converse with CHRIST

Hymnal: A Collection of Hymns, selected from sundry poets #X (1791) First Line: I'm tir'd with visits, modes and forms Lyrics: 1 I'm tir'd with visits, modes and forms, And flatteries paid to fellow-worms Their conversation cloys; Their vain amouurs, and empty stuff: But I can ne'er enjoy enough Of thy blest company my Lord, Thou life of all my joys. 2 When he begins to tell his love, Through ev'ry vein my passions move, The captives of his tongue; In midnight shades, on frosty ground, I could attend the pleasing sound, Nor should I feel December cold, Nor think the darkness long. 3 There, while I hear my Saviour God, Count o'er the sins (a heavy load) He bore upon the tree, Inward I blush with secret shame, And weep, and love, and bless the name That knew not guilt nor grief his own, But bare it all for me. 4 Next he describes the thorns he wore, And talks his bloody passions o'er, Till I am drown'd in tears; Yet with the sympathetic smart, There's a strange joy beats round my heart, The cursed tree has blessings in't, My sweetest balm it bears. 5 I hear the glorious sufferer tell, How on his cross he vanquish'd hell, And all the powers beneath: Transported and inspir'd my tongue, Attempts his triumphs in a song; How has the serpent lost his sting, And where's thy victory death? 6 But when he shews his hands and heart, With those dear prints of dying smart, He sets my soul on fire: Nor the beloved John could rest With more delight upon that breast, Nor Thomas pry into those wounds With more intense desire. 7 Kindly he opens me his ear, And bids me pour my sorrow there, And tell him all my pains: Thus, while I ease my burthen'd heart, In ev'ry woe he bears a part, His arms embrace me, and his hand My drooping head sustains. 8 Fly from my thoughts, all human things, And sporting swains, and fighting kings, And tales of wanton love: My soul disdains that little snare The tangles of Amira's hair; Thine arms, my God, are sweeter bands; Nor can my heart remove. Languages: English
Page scan

Converse with Christ

Author: Dr. Watts Hymnal: Dupuy's Hymns and Spiritual Songs (Rev. corr. and enl.) #S91 (1843) First Line: I'm tir'd of visits, modes, and forms Languages: English

Pages


Export as CSV
It looks like you are using an ad-blocker. Ad revenue helps keep us running. Please consider white-listing Hymnary.org or getting Hymnary Pro to eliminate ads entirely and help support Hymnary.org.