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181 GOD of Bethel, by whose hand
Thy people still are fed,
Who through this weary pilgrimage
Hast all our fathers led,—

2 Our vows, our prayers, we now present
Before Thy throne of grace!
God of our fathers, be the God
Of their succeeding race!

3 Through each perplexing path of life
Our wand'ring footsteps guide;
Give us each day our daily bread,
And raiment fit provide!

4 O, spread Thy cov'ring wings around,
Till all our wand'rings cease,
And at our Father's lov'd abode
Our souls arrive in peace!

182 TO heaven my restless heart aspires!
O for a quickening ray
To wake and warm my faint desires,
And cheer the toilsome way!

2 My Guardian, my Almighty Friend,
On Thee my soul would rest;
On Thee alone my hopes depend;
Be near, and I am blest.

183 COME, my soul, Thy suit prepare,

Jesus loves to answer prayer;

He himself has bid thee pray,
Therefore will not say thee nay.

2 Thou art coming to a King,
Large petitions with thee bring;
For his grace and power are such,
None can ever ask too much.

3 With my burden I begin;
Lord, remove this load of sin;
Let Thy blood, for sinners spilt,
Set my. conscience free from guilt.
4 Lord, I come to Thee for rest,
Take possession of my breast;
There Thy blood-bought right maintain,
And without a rival reign.

5 While I am a pilgrim here,
Let Thy love my spirit cheer;
As my Guide, my Guard, my Friend,
Lead me to my journey's end.

184 WHEN, overwhelm'd with grief,
My heart within me dies,

Helpless and far from all relief,
To heaven I lift mine eyes.

2 O, lead me to the Rock
That's high above my head,
And make the covert of Thy wings
My shelter and my shade!

3

Within Thy presence, Lord,
For ever I'll abide ;

Thou art the tower of my defence,
The refuge where I hide.

185 HELP us, Lord, each hour of need ;
Thy heavenly succour give;

Help us in thought and word and deed,
Each hour on earth we live.

2 O, help us, when our spirits bleed
With contrite anguish sore;

And when our hearts are cold and dead,
O help us, Lord, the more.

3 O, help us, through the prayer of faith,
More firmly to believe;

For still the more Thy servant hath,
The more shall he receive.

4 O, help us, Jesus, from on high;
We know no help but Thee;
O, help us so to live and die
As Thine in heaven to be.

186 THY counsel, Lord, shall guide my feet

Thro' this dark wilderness :
Thy hand conduct me near thy seat,
To dwell before Thy face.

2 Were I in heav'n without my God,
No joy would be to me:

And while this earth is mine abode,
I long for none but Thee.

3 What if the springs of life decay,

And heart and flesh should faint;
God is my soul's eternal stay,

The strength of ev'ry saint.

1

4 Still to draw near to Thee, my God,
Shall be my sweet employ ;

To sound Thy works of grace abroad,
And tell the world my joy.

187 FATHER, whate'er of earthly bliss.
Thy sovereign will denies,
Accepted at Thy throne of grace
Let this petition rise ;-

2 Give me a calm, a thankful heart,
From every murmur free;

The blessings of Thy grace impart,
And let me live to Thee.

3 Let the sweet hope that Thou art mine
My life and death attend;

Thy presence through my journey shine,
And crown my journey's end.

188 HE who for man a surety stood,

And pour'd on earth his precious
blood,

Pursues in heav'n the gracious plan;
An helper still and friend of man.
2 Though far ascended up on high,
He still retains a brother's eye;
Pities our nature, loves our name,
And knows the frailty of our frame.
3 Come then with boldness to his throne,
And make your wants and sorrows known:
Beg there the help of heav'nly pow'r,
And mercy in the trying hour.

189 GUIDE me, O Thou great Jehovah!
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but Thou art mighty :
Hold me with Thy powerful hand;
Bread of heaven,

Feed me till I want no more.

2 Open Thou the living fountain,
Whence the healing streams do flow;
Let the fiery, cloudy pillar

Lead me all my journey through ;
Strong deliverer,

Be Thou still my strength and shield.

3 When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears subside;
Triumph give and consolation;
Land me safe on Canaan's side:
Songs of praises

I will ever give to Thee.

190 WHEN the Saviour dwelt below, Pity in his bosom reigned;

Sympathy He loved to show,

Nor the meanest suit disdained.

2 Round Him thronged the blind, the lame, Deaf, and dumb, diseased, possessed,

None in vain for healing came,

All the Saviour freely blest.

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