Then mercy on our failings, Lord! 469. C. M. 1 O help us, Lord! each hour of need 2 O help us, when our spirits bleed And when our hearts are cold and dead, O help us, Lord, the more. 3 O help us, through the prayer of faith, For still the more the servant hath, 4 O help us, Father, from on high; O help us so to live and die, 470. L. M. 1 0 Thou to whose all-searching sight 2 If in the darksome wild I stray, Nor foes, while Thou my God art near. 3 When rising floods my soul o'erflow, When sinks my heart in waves of woe; Through Jesus timely aid impart, To raise my head, and cheer my heart. 5 If rough and thorny be the way, 471. P. M. 1 Our hope in sorrow, sorrow leaves; He who the heart of bliss bereaves, 2 Our dearest hopes He would not crush, And pass unheeding by them; Nor bid our eyes with sorrows gush, 3 A bruised reed He will not break: 472. L. M. 1 Our times are in Thy hand, and Thou 2 Life's mighty waters roll along; 3 Lord! we Thy children look to Thee, And with an humbled, prostrate will, Find in Thine all-sufficiency 1 A claim to love and serve Thee still. 473. P. M. Say not, my soul, "From whence Has servants everywhere: Thou seekest charity, Christ may come knocking at thy door, And ask relief of thee. 2 3 4 He comes as truth denied; Will he an alms receive? God's help is always sure, His wisdom is sublime, His heart profoundly kind; Hast thou assumed a load Which few will share with thee? And art thou carrying it for God, And shall He fail to see? Be comforted at heart, Thou art not left alone: Now, thou the Lord's companion art, And soon wilt share His throne. 474. C. M. 1 I cannot call affliction sweet, 2 My weaned soul was all resigned Oh! had I kept that better mind, 3 Where are the vows which then I vowed, Those vanished, like the morning cloud, 4 Lord! grant me grace for every day, 475. 10s M. 1 Thou that art strong to comfort, look on me! I sit in darkness and behold no light; Over my soul the waves of agony Have gone, and left me in a rayless night. 2 A bruised and broken reed sustain! sustain ! Divinest Comforter, to Thee I fly, To whom no soul hath ever fled in vain; 3 Father, whate'er I had, it all was Thine; |