HYMNS FUR THE SICK ROOM. C. M. I WAEN languor and disease invade This trembling house of clay, And long to fly away. The whispers of his love; Where Jesus pleads above. 3 Sweet to look back, and see my name In life's fair book set down: (145) 4 Sweet to reflect how grace divine My sins on Jesus laid ; My debt of suffering paid. Which saves from second death; His Spirit's quickening breath. 6 Sweet on his faithfulness to rest, Whose love can never end; For all things to depend. To trust his firm decrees; Sweet to lie passive in his hands, And know no will but his. What must the fountain be; Immediately from thee ! 1 Jesus, lover of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly, While the tempest still is high. Till the storm of life is past ; 0! receive my soul at last. 2 Other refuge have I none, Hangs my helpless soul on thee; Still support and comfort me, All my help from thee I bring; With the shadow of thy wing, 3 Thou, O Christ, art all I want; All in all in thee I find; Heal the sick and lead the blind. I am all unrighteousness; Thou art full of truth and grace. 4 Plenteous grace with thee is found, Grace to pardon all my sin; Make and keep me pure within. Freely let me take of thee; Spring thou up within my heart, Rise to all eternity. |