The Chapel Hymnal

85 ARLINGTON C. M.

Arr. from Thomas A. Arne, 1762

I Thou art the Way to
:

Thee a-lone From sin and death we

flee;

And he who would the Father seek Must seek Him, Lord, by Thee.

AMEN.

2 Thou art the Truth: Thy word alone
True wisdom can impart ;
Thou only canst inform the mind,
And purify the heart.

3 Thou art the Life: the rending tomb
Proclaims Thy conquering arm,

86 (SAXBY) L. M.

And those who put their trust in Thee
Nor death nor hell shall harm.

4 Thou art the Way, the Truth, the Life:
Grant us that Way to know,
That Truth to keep, that Life to win,
Whose joys eternal flow.

Bishop George W. Doane, 1824

I O MASTER, let me walk with Thee
In lowly paths of service free;

Tell me Thy secret; help me bear
The strain of toil, the fret of care.

2 Help me the slow of heart to move
By some clear winning word of love;
Teach me the wayward feet to stay,
And guide them in the homeward way.

3 Teach me Thy patience; still with Thee
In closer, dearer company,

In work that keeps faith sweet and strong,
In trust that triumphs over wrong;

4 In hope that sends a shining ray
Far down the future's broadening way;
In peace that only Thou canst give,
With Thee, O Master, let me live.

Rev. Washington Gladden, 1879

Robert W Dixon, 1875

87 STAINCLIFFE L. M.

I How shall I follow Him I serve? How shall I copy Him I love?

Nor from those bless-ed foot steps swerve, Which lead me to His seat a-bove? A - MEN.

2 Privations, sorrows, bitter scorn,
The life of toil, the mean abode,
The faithless kiss, the crown of thorn,—
Are these the consecrated road?

3 'Twas thus He suffered, though a Son,

Foreknowing, choosing, feeling all,

88 (STAINCLIFFE) L. M.

1 BEHOLD, the Master passeth by ! O seest thou not His pleading eye? With low sad voice He calleth thee, "Leave this vain world, and follow Me." 2 O soul, bowed down with harrowing

care,

Hast thou no thought for heaven to spare? From earthly toils lift up thine eye; Behold, the Master passeth by!

Until the perfect work was done,
And drunk the bitter cup of gall.

4 Lord, should my path through suffering lie,

Forbid it I should e'er repine;
Still let me turn to Calvary,
Nor heed my griefs, remembering Thine.

Josiah Conder, 1824, 1836

Counting his earthly gain as loss For Jesus and His blessed cross.

4 That " Follow Me" his faithful ear
Seemed every day afresh to hear :
Its echoes stirred his spirit still,
And fired his hope, and nerved his will.

God gently calls us every day:
Why should we then our bliss delay?
Thou, Lord, e'en now art calling me;
I will leave all, and follow Thee.
Bishop William W. How (verses 4, 5, alt. from Bishop Ken, publ. 1721) 1871

3 One heard Him calling long ago, And straightway left all things below,

89 GERHARDT 7.6.7.6. D.

Joseph P. Holbrook, 1862

4
4

I O 20

sa - cred Head, now wound-ed, With grief and shame weighed down; noblest brow and dearest, In oth er days the

world

3 What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered 4 What language shall I borrow

Was all for sinners' gain:

Mine, mine was the transgression,

But Thine the deadly pain. Lo, here I fall, my Saviour!

'Tis I deserve Thy place; Look on me with Thy favor, Vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

To thank Thee, dearest Friend, For this Thy dying sorrow,

Thy pity without end?

O make me Thine for ever;
And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never
Outlive my love to Thee.

Ascribed to Bernard of Clairvaux (1091-1153). Tr. Rev. Paul
Gerhardt, 1656. Tr. Rev. James W. Alexander, 1830

90 HAMBURG L. M.

Arr. from a Gregorian Chant, by Lowell Mason, 1824

I When I sur - vey the wondrous cross On which the Prince of

glory died,

My rich-est gain I

count but loss, And pour contempt on all my pride. A-MEN.

2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, Save in the death of Christ my God: All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood.

3 See, from His head, His hands, His feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down:

ZEPHYR L. M.

Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so rich a crown? 4 Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small; Love so amazing, so Divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Rev. Isaac Watts, 1707

William B. Bradbury, 1844

I 'Tis midnight; and on Olive's brow The star is dimmed that lately shone:

'Tis midnight; in the gar-den, now, The suffering Saviour prays a lone. A-MEN.

I 'TIS midnight; and on Olive's brow 3 'Tis midnight; and, for others' guilt, The star is dimmed that lately shone :

'Tis midnight; in the garden, now,
The suffering Saviour prays alone.

2 'Tis midnight; and, from all removed,
Emmanuel wrestles lone with fears:
E'en the disciple that He loved
Heeds not his Master's grief and tears.

The Man of Sorrows weeps in blood : Yet He that hath in anguish knelt Is not forsaken by His God.

4 'Tis midnight; from the heavenly plains Is borne the song that angels know: Unheard by mortals are the strains That sweetly soothe the Saviour's woe. William B. Tappan, 1822

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