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3 In the sacred page recorded

Thus his word securely stands;

'Fear not, I'm in trouble, near thee,

'Nought shall pluck you from my hands :'
Sweet affliction,

Every word my love demands.


HYMN 358. L. P. M. St. Helen's. [b]

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Prayer for Divine Consolation.

hear a humble suppliant's cry;

ATHER of mercies, God of love,

o Bend from thy lofty seat above,
g Thy throne of glorious majesty:
O deign to listen to my voice,
And bid my drooping heart rejoice.
2 I urge no merits of my own,
No worth to claim thy gracious smile;
And when I bow before thy throne,
Dare to converse with God awhile,
Thy name, blest Jesus, is my plea,
Dearest and sweetest name to me!

p 3 Father of mercies, God of love,
Then hear thy humble suppliant's cry;
Bend from thy lofty seat above,

g Thy throne of glorious majesty :

One pardoning word can make me whole,
And soothe the anguish of my soul.

HYMN 359. C. M.


Funeral Hymn. [b]

Think upon Me. Neh. v, 19.

P1THOU, from whom all goodness flows,

I lift my heart to thee;

In all my trials, conflicts, woes,
Dear Lord, remember me.

2 When groaning, on my burdened heart

My sins lie heavily:

My pardon speak, new peace impart,
In love, remember me.

3 If on my face, for thy dear name,
Shame and reproaches be;

o I'll hail reproach, and welcome shame If thou remember me.

p 4 The hour is near-consigned to death,
I own the just decree;

Saviour, with my last parting breath,
I'll cry-Remember me.

p 1


HYMN 360. 8 & 7. Smyrna. [b]


In deep Affliction.

ULL of trembling expectation,
Feeling much, and fearing more,

Mighty God of my salvation,
I thy timely aid implore:
Suffering Son of Man, be near me,
All my sufferings to sustain,
By thy sorer griefs to cheer me,
By thy more than mortal pain.

-2 By thy most severe temptation,
In that dark, Satanic hour;
By thy last mysterious passion,
Screen me from the adverse power;
By thy fainting in the garden,
By thy bloody sweat, I pray,
Write upon my heart the pardon,
Take my sins and fears away.

3 By the travail of thy spirit,
By thine outcry on the tree,
By thine agonizing merit,
In my pangs remember me !
By thy death I thee conjure,
A weak, dying soul befriend;
Make me patient to endure;
Make me faithful to the end.



HYMN 361. C. M. Dedham. [b]

Hope in Trouble.

WHEN musing sorrow weeps the past,
And mourns the present pain,


"Tis sweet to think of peace at last,

And feel that death is gain.

2 'Tis not that murmuring thoughts arise,

And dread a Father's will,

"Tis not that meek submission flies,

And would not suffer still:

3 It is that heaven-born faith surveys
The path that leads to light,
And longs her eagle plumes to raise,
And lose herself in sight.

-4 It is that hope with ardor glows,
To see him face to face,

Whose dying love no language knows
Sufficient art to trace,

5 It is that harassed conscience feels
The pangs of struggling sin;
And sees, though far, the hand that heals,
And ends the strife within.

8 6 0 let me wing my hallowed flight
From earth-born wo and care,

And soar above these clouds of night,
My Saviour's bliss to share!

HYMN 362. C. M. Abridge. [*]
Gospel Comforts.

P1W This trembling house of clay,

THEN languor and disease invade

'Tis sweet to look beyond our cage,
And long to fly away.

e 2 Sweet to look inward, and attend
The whispers of his love;
Sweet to look upward to the place
Where Jesus pleads above.

3 Sweet on his faithfulness to rest,
Whose love can never end;
Sweet on his covenant of grace,
For all things to depend.

4 Sweet in the confidence of faith,
To trust his firm decrees;
Sweet to lie passive in his hands,
And know no will but his.

5 If such the sweetness of the streams,

What must the fountain be,

Where saints and angels draw their bliss
Immediately from thee?

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Olmutz. [*]

YOUR harps, ye trembling saints,
Down from the willows take;

u Loud to the praise of love divine,
Bid every string awake.

0 2 Though in a foreign land,
We are not far from home,
And nearer to our house above,
We every moment come.

3 His grace will to the end,
Stronger and brighter shine;

Nor present things, nor things to come,
Shall quench the love divine.

4 Blest is the man, O God,
That stays himself on thee!

Who waits for thy salvation, Lord,
Shall thy salvation see.


HYMN 364. P. M.

Haddam. [*]

The Cross the Way to the Crown.

81L See myriads round the throne!

OOK up to yonder world,

Each bears a golden harp,

And wears a sacred crown:

s With zeal they strike
The sacred lyre,

2 Believing in his Name,
They in his footsteps trod;
His righteousness their hope,
Their only plea his blood;
Lo, now they reign
With him above,

And strive to raise
Their praises higher.

Behold his face
And sing his love.

3 And shall we not aspire,
Like them our course to run?
The crown if we would wear,
That crown must first be won:
Divinely taught,

They shewed the way,

First to believe

And then obey.

HYMN 365. L. M. Luton. [*]

The Redeemed round the Throne. Rev. vii, 9—17.

。1LO: round the throne, at. God's right hand,

The saints, in countless myriads, stand;

Of every tongue, redeemed to God,
Arrayed in garments washed in blood.

2 Through tribulation great they came;
They bore the cross, despised the shame:
From all their labors now they rest,
In God's eternal glory blest.

3 Hunger and thirst they feel no more;
Nor sin, nor pain, nor death, deplore :
The tears are wiped from every eye,
And sorrow yields to endless joy.

4 They see their Saviour face to face,
And sing the triumphs of his grace :
Him day and night they ceaseless praise,
To him their loud hosannas raise.-

$ 5 Worthy the Lamb for sinners slain,
Through endless years to live and reign!
Thou hast redeemed us by thy blood,
And made us kings and priests to God!

HYMN 366. 7s. Evening Hymn. [*]


The Redeemed in Heaven.

WHAT are these in bright array,

W This innumerable throng,

Round the altar night and day,
Hymning one triumphant song:
"Worthy is the Lamb once slain,
Blessing, honour, glory, power,
Wisdom, riches, to obtain,
New dominion, every hour."
2 These through fiery trials trod,
These from great affliction came;
Now before the throne of God,
Sealed with his almighty name;
Clad in raiment pure and white,
Victor-palms in every hand,
Through their dear Redeemer's might,
More than conquerors they stand.

3 Hunger, thirst, disease unknown,
On immortal fruits they feed;
Them, the Lamb amidst the throne,
Shall to living fountains lead:
Joy and gladness banish sighs,
Perfect love dispels all fears,
And for ever from their eyes,
God shall wipe away the tears.



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