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And, when the evening shades prevail'd,
His love was all my song.

8 In vain the tempter spreads his wiles,
The world no more could charm;
I liv'd upon my Saviour’s smiles,
And lean'd upon his arm.

4 in prayer my soul drew near the Lord
And saw his glory shine;
And, when I read his holy word,
I call'd each promise mine.

5 Then to his saints I often spoke
Of what his love had done;
But now my heart is almost broke,
For all my joys are gone.

9 Now when the evening shade prevails,
My soul in darkness mourns;
And when the morn the light reveals, 3
No light to me returns.

7 My prayers are now a chattering noise, For Jesus hides his face;


I read, the promise meets my eyes,
But will not reach my case.

8 Now Satan threatens to prevail,
And make my soul his prey;
Yet, Lord, thy mercies cannot fail,
O come without delay.

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ESUS: lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly ..."
While the raging billows roll,—
While the tempest still is high;
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide;
Oh, receive my soul at last.

2 Other refuge have I none,—
Hangs my helpless soul on thee!
Leave, ah! leave me not alone!
Still support and comfort me!
All Iny trust on thee is stay’d.
All my help from thee I bring.
Cover my defenceless head
With the shadow of thy wing:


3 Thon, O Christ! art all I want,

All in all in thee I find

Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,
Heal the sick, and lead the blind,

Just and holy is thy name,
I am all unrighteousness,

Wile and full of sin I am--
Thou art full of truth and grace.

4 Plenteous grace with thee is found—

Grace to pardon all my sins:

Let the healing stream abound;
Make and keep me pure within.

Thou of life the fountain art,
Freely let me take of thee;

Spring thou up within my heart.—
Rise to all eternity.

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R"; my soul, and stretch thy wings,
Thy better portion trace,
Rise from transitory things,
Towards heav'n thy native place;
Sun, and moon, and stars, decay;
Time shall soon this earth remove,

Rise, my soul, and haste away
To seats prepar'd above.
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2 Rivers to the ocean run,
Nor stay in all their course;
Fire, ascending, seeks the sun:
Both speed them to their source;
Thus a soul, new-born of God,
Pants to view his glorious face,
Upward tends to his abode,
To rest in his erubrace.

2 Cease, ye pilgrims' cease to mourn;

Press onward to the prize.

Soon the Saviour will return
Triumphant in the skies.

Yet a season, and you know
Happy entrance will be given,

All your sorrows left below,
And earth exchang'd for heaven.

HYMN 64.—8, 8, 6. The Spiri'ual Pilgrim. H9. happy is the pilgrim's lot, How free from anxious care and thought, From worldly hope and fear.

Confin'd to neither court nor cell.
His soul disdains on earth to dwell,
He only sojourns here.

2 His happiness in part is mine;
Already sav'd from self-design,
From ev’ry creature love—
Bless'd with the scorn of finite good,
My soul is lighten’d of its load,
And seeks the things above.

3 The things eternal I pursue, And happiness beyond the view Of those who basely pant For things by nature felt and seen: Their honors, wealth, and pleasures mean, I neither have nor want.

4 Nothing on earth I call my own:
A stranger, to the world unknown,
I all their goods despise:
I trample on their whole delight,
And seek a country out of sight, +
A country in the skies.

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