Please give today to support Hymnary.org during one of only two fund drives we run each year. Each month, Hymnary serves more than 1 million users from around the globe, thanks to the generous support of people like you, and we are so grateful.

Tax-deductible donations can be made securely online using this link.

Alternatively, you may write a check to CCEL and mail it to:
Christian Classics Ethereal Library, 3201 Burton SE, Grand Rapids, MI 49546

Instance Results

In:instances
Text Identifier:"^through_miry_paths_i_labored_on$"

Planning worship? Check out our sister site, ZeteoSearch.org, for 20+ additional resources related to your search.
Showing 1 - 2 of 2Results Per Page: 102050
TextAudio

The Grief Of Pleasures

Author: Phillip S. Worsley Hymnal: The Cyber Hymnal #10798 Meter: 8.8.8.8 First Line: Through miry paths I labored on Lyrics: 1 Through miry paths I labored on; Dark fell the mist, I could not see; But when my feet were almost gone, A voice said—"Turn, and look on Me." 2 Who com’st Thou, taunted like a thief By hard men, joyous in Thy fall? Who art Thou, yearning pale with grief To some friend in the judgment hall? 2 O glance too kind for broken vow, For crime sinned often and afresh! O thorns, that wring the purest brow Made ever yet from human flesh! 3 O printed hands, O printed feet, O side, dug to the quick with steel! I marvel, but no answering heat Strikes through my breast, to make it feel. 4 Ah Lord! but if Thy grace impart True sorrow for my inward stain, That look will pierce me to the heart, That crown will tear me to the brain. 5 Those marks upon Thy feet and hands, That furrow in Thy sinless side, Will sear me as with iron brands While I with Thee hang crucified. 6 Nay, but the world—too far, too much She lures me with her power to please. How can I bear Thy healing touch To rob me of my sweet disease? 7 For e’en again that path of mire, That dim place, where the mist came down, Seems, for its joy, worth endless fire, Such dreams my soul in poison drown. 8 I bathe me in a false delight, Chew dust for bread: yet, Lord, I pray, Come, for without Thee day is night, Come now, for with Thee night is day. 9 Yea, by Thy love, Thy toil to save, Thy prayer, Thy groans, Thy bloody sweat, Thy death, Thy rising from the grave, Look down from Heav’n, and hear me yet. Languages: English Tune Title: ABENDS

The grief of pleasures

Hymnal: Elim; or Hymns of Holy Refreshment #d127 (1866) First Line: Through miry paths I labored on Languages: English

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.