Rejoicing in Hope.

96.

O

THE HIDDEN LIFE.

HAPPY soul that lives on high,
While men lie grovelling here!
His hopes are fixed above the sky,
And faith forbids his fear.

His conscience knows no secret stings,
While grace and joy combine
To form a life whose holy springs
Are hidden and divine.

He waits in secret on his God,
His God in secret sees;
Let earth be all in arms abroad,
He dwells in heavenly peace.

His pleasures rise from things unseen,
Beyond this world and time,

Where neither eyes nor ears have been,

Nor thoughts of mortals climb.

C. M.

ISAAC WATTS.

97.

JOY IN THE LORD.

COME, Yet our

OME, we that love the Lord,

And let our joys be known ;
Join in a song with sweet accord,
And thus surround the throne.

The God that rules on high,
That all the earth surveys,
That rides upon the stormy sky,
And calms the roaring seas;

This awful God is ours,

Our Father and our Love;

He shall send down his heavenly powers

To carry us above.

There shall we see his face,

And never, never sin ;

There, from the rivers of his grace,
Drink endless pleasures in.

Yea, and before we rise
To that immortal state,

The thoughts of such amazing bliss
Should constant joys create.

The hill of Zion yields

A thousand sacred sweets,

Before we reach the heavenly fields,

Or walk the golden streets.

S. M.

98.

Then, let our songs abound,

And every tear be dry;

We're marching through Immanuel's ground

To fairer worlds on high.

LORD, how secure and blest are they

Who feel the joys of pardoned sin !

Should storms of wrath shake earth and sea,
Their minds have heaven and peace within.

The day glides swiftly o'er their heads,
Made up of innocence and love;

And soft and silent as the shades

Their nightly minutes gently move.

Quick as their thoughts their joys come on,

But fly not half so swift away;

Their souls are ever bright as noon,
And calm as summer evenings be.

How oft they look to the heavenly hills,
Where groves of living pleasure grow,
And longing hopes and cheerful smiles
Sit undisturbed upon their brow!

ISAAC WATts.

99.

THE LORD IS MY PORTION.

C. M.

ΜΥ

heart is resting, O my God,—

I will give thanks and sing;
My heart is at the secret source

Of every precious thing.

Now the frail vessel thou hast made
No hand but thine shall fill ;

For the waters of the earth have failed,
And I am thirsty still.

I thirst for springs of heavenly life,
And here all day they rise;
I seek the treasure of thy love,
And close at hand it lies.
And a new song is in my mouth,
To long-loved music set:
Glory to thee for all the grace
I have not tasted yet.

Glory to thee for strength withheld,
For want and weakness known,

And the fear that sends me to thy breast
For what is most my own.

There is a certainty of love

That sets my heart at rest,
A calm assurance for to-day
That to be poor is best.