Through many weary years of pain, A suff'ring,sorrowing soul, Many physicians
sought in vain; But none could make her whole. Ah! virtue doth in Christ a-bide,
Through many weary years of pain,
A suffering, sorrowing soul,
Many physicians sought in vain;
But none could make her whole.
She heard the rumor of His fame,
And felt within her soul,
"If I but touch His garment's hem
I surely shall be whole.
Amid the trampling throng she came, A sick and weary soul.
She reached and touched His garment's hem, And Jesus made her whole.
"Who touched my robe?" said He; she came And told before them all, How she had touched his garment's hem,
And faith had made her whole.
Ye sin-sick, ruined, fallen men,
Each heavy-laden soul;
Oh, come, and touch his garment's hem,
Ánd Christ will make you whole!
Cho.-Ah! virtue doth in him abide,
In his pierced hands and wounded side.
By faith I touch his crimson robe,
And lo! I am made whole.
Him that cometh to me. John vi. 87.
My soul, approach the mercy-seat
While it is called To-day:
Oh, hasten to thy Saviour's feet,
And in his presence say:-
"Just as I am, without one plea
But that thy blood was shed for me,
And that thou bidst me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God, I come!"
My soul is like a troubled sea,
Tumultuous and unblest;
O Lamb of God, I come to Thee,
For thou canst give me rest.
"Just as I am, though tossed about
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings within and fears without,
O Lamb of God, I come!"
My numerous sins and faults I own,
I blush with guilt and shame;
Yet will I seek thy gracious throne
And plead my Saviour's name.
"Just as I am, thy love unknown
Hath broken every barrier down:
Now to be thine, yea, thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come!"
Ye Shall Hind Rest to Your Souls.
My wea-ry soul a rest hath found, A rest that will not fail: A sure and certain
anchorage ground In Christ, within the vail.
O Rock of A-ges, cleft for me, In
thee my soul I hide: My tow'r of strength, I fly to thee, And safely there abide.
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My weary soul a rest hath found
A covert from the tempest.
Isa. xxxii. 2.
A rest that will not fail:
A sure and certain anchorage ground.
In Christ within the vail.
C. M. 506 Thou Son of David, have mercy on me.
A beggar by the highway side
Helpless and blind I sit:
But 'mid the thronging, hurrying tide,
I hear the Saviour's feet.
Chorus:-Thou Son of David, pity me:
No help can others give;
Open my eyes that I may see,
Chorus:-O Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
In thee my soul I hide.
My tower of strength, I fly to thee,
And safely there abide.
I hide me in this refuge strong,
From every tempest's blast;
And sit and sing until the storm
Of wrath is overpast.
Ye comfortless and tempest-tost,
By sins and woes opprest;
Ye tempted, troubled, ruined, lost,
Come, find in Christ your rest.
Ye thirsty, from this smitten Rock
Life's crystal waters spring;
There hide from every stormy shock,
And rest, and drink, and sing.
And look on Thee, and live.
Though many seek my voice to hush,
Though multitudes may throng;
High, high above their trampling rush,
My cry I still prolong.
He hears, he speaks, he calleth me!
I have not prayed in vain;
He asks, "What shall I do to thee?
What favor wouldst thou gain?"
"Receive thy sight!" I hear him say,
His word I now receive;
I follow Jesus in the way,
I look to him and live.
Remem-ber thou, though far from home, Art still the Father's child.
C. M. 508 Comfort one another with these words.
Ye souls bereft, be comforted;
Ye tearful eyes, look up;
Ye sorrow not above the dead
As those who have no hope.
O prodigal, why wilt thou roam
În sin's dark desert wild,
Remember thou, tho' far from home,
Art still the Father's child.
A table spread, a vacant seat,
A door that stands ajar,
Tell how thy Father longs to greet
His child who wanders far.
The love that bought thy soul with blood
Still in His heart doth burn:
O weary wanderer from thy God,
In penitence return.
Why tarriest thou with tearful eyes,
In wretchedness and woe?
Make haste, and say, "I will arise,
And to my Father go."
While yet a great way off thou art,
With willing feet He speeds,
To clasp thee to his throbbing heart,
And satisfy thy needs.
His heart o'er all thy wayward mirth
Hath never ceased to mourn;
And joy in heaven, and joy on earth,
Shall hail thy glad return.
Since we believe that Jesus died,
And rose, o'er death the King,
So with Him, all who sleep in Christ,
Shall God in victory bring.
The Lord himself shall come from heaven,
And shout his high command;
Th' archangel's voice and trump of God
Shall sound o'er sea and land.
The dead in Christ shall first arise,
With living saints caught up;
In clouds they meet, with glad surprise,
Their Lord, their life, their hope.
Safe in the chambers of His love,
They reap a rich reward;
The crown of life laid up above:-
The welcome of the Lord..
So shall we ever be with Him
Who once for sinners bled:
With this assurance comfort them
Who sorrow o'er the dead.
On death's cold, barren clod;
And who are they, reserved in store
God's treasure-house to fill?
The wheat, a hundredfold that bore
Amid surrounding ill.
O King of mercy! grant us power
Thy fiery wrath to flee!
In thy destroying angel's hour,
O gather us to thee!
Reginald Heber, 1783-1826.
Neither pray I for these alone.
John xvii. 20.
Lord, who didst for thy people pray,
That they might all be one,
And myriad forms spring forth to view, Hear the petitions which we lay
Before thy gracious throne.
In weakness sown, 'mid sighs and tears; Unite us, Lord, in thee our Head;
In glory now they rise,
To meet their Lord when he appears,
Descending from the skies.
Death's chilling winter now is past,
All hail, life's joyous Spring!
The dew of God descends at last;
Awake, awake and sing!
May we one faith receive;
One spirit through our hearts be shed,-
So may the world believe.
Gather in one thy scattered sheep,
The flock redeemed by thee;
And one in thee thy people keer
To immortality.
numbers end, The numbers of thy grace? Thou art my ev - er - lasting trust;Thy
goodness I adore; And since I knew thy graces first, I speak thy graces more.
My lips shall greatly rejoice. Psalm 1xxi. 23.
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My Saviour, my Almighty Friend,
When I begin thy praise,
Where will the growing numbers end,
The numbers of thy grace?
Thou art my everlasting trust;
Thy goodness I adore;
And since I knew thy graces first,
I speak thy glories more.
My feet shall travel all the length
Of the celestial road;
And march with courage in thy strength
To see my Father, God.
When I am filled with sore distress
For some surprising sin,
I'll plead Thy perfect righteousness,
And mention none but thine.
How will my lips rejoice to tell
The victories of my King!
My soul, redeem'd from sin and hell,
Shall Thy salvation sing.
Awake, awake, my tuneful powers;
With this delightful song
I'll entertain the darkest hours,
Nor think the season long.
Isles of the deep, rejoice! rejoice!
Ye ransomed nations, sing
The praises of your Lord and God,
The triumphs of your King.
He comes, and at his mighty word,
The clouds are fleeting past,
And o'er the land of promise, see
The glory breaks at last.
There He, upon his ancient throne,
His power and grace displays,
While Salem, with its echoing hills,
Sends forth its voice of praise.
Streams of divine, unfading joy,
Whose sweetness none can know
But the redeemed, the blood-bought soul,
Through all creation flow.
Oh, let his praises fill the earth!
While all the blest above,
In strains of loftier triumph still,
Speak only of his love.
Sing, ye redeemed! Before the throne,
Ye white-robed myriads, fall;
Sing for the Lord of glory reigns,
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