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Phil. 4:8

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Phil. 4:8

1 Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breath free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless tempest tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door. E. Lazarus (417)

2 JESUS BLAZE MY TRAIL. (1445)

3 Jail to the creep. (1660) (instead of "Hail to the Chief")

4 If anyone will not work neither shall he eat. 2 Thess. 3:10 (1676)

5 Whatever things are true, noble, just, pure, lovely, of good report, virtuous and praiseworthy, think about these things. Phil. 4:8 (1691)