Flemming. 115, 5s. Praise ye the Father for his loving-kindness! Ten-der-ly cares he for his earthly children; 637. I PRAISE ye the Father for his loving kind- Upsoaring on the wings of awe and meek ness! Tenderly cares he for his earthly children; Praise him ye angels, praise him in the heavens ; Praise ye Jehovah ! 2 Praise ye the Saviour, Son of God the Father! Earth is his heritage, he will bless his people; ness: Forgive its weakness. 2 We see thy hand: it leads us, it supports us; We hear thy voice: it counsels and it courts us; And then we turn away; and still thy kind ness Forgives our blindness. Sing ye together; praise him all ye children, 3 O, how long-suffering, Lord! but thou Praise ye the Saviour! 3 Praise ye the Spirit! Comforter of Israel, 638. I FROM the recesses of a lowly spirit, delightest To win with love the wandering; thou invitest By smiles of mercy, not by frowns or terrors, 4 Father and Saviour, plant within each The seeds of holiness, and bid them blossom Hushed was the evening hymn, The temple courts were dark; The lamp was burn-ing dim Be-fore the sacred ark; When sud-den-ly a voice di-vine Rang thro' the silence of the shrine. Each whisper of thy word: 4 O, give me Samuel's heart, 5 O, give me Samuel's mind; To thee in life and death; That I may read with childlike eyes Truths that are hidden from the wise. The earth is not too low, His praises there may grow. Let all the world in every corner sing, My God and King! I greet thee, my Redeem-er sure, I trust in none but thee, Thou who hast borne such toil and shame And suffering for me, Our hearts from cares and cravings vain, I I GREET thee, my Redeemer sure, I trust in none but thee, Thou who hast borne such toil and shame And suffering for me, Our hearts from cares and cravings vain, 2 Thou art the life by which we live, What time soe'er it be, That we may meet it with strong heart, 3 The true and perfect gentleness 4 Our hope is in none else but thee; 643. I BEYOND, beyond the boundless sea, That thou, my God, art nigh! 2 Art nigh, and yet my laboring mind Feels after thee in vain, Thee in these works of power to find, Or to thy seat attain; Thy messenger, the stormy wind; Thy path, the trackless main. 3 These speak of thee with loud acclaim, 4 We hear thy voice, when thunders roll Who yet is everywhere? 5 O, not in circling depth or height, O come, thou Presence infinite, |