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2 He knew us, when we knew not him,
Was with us, though unseen;
His love has wondrous been.
Whatever foe assails :
With pow'r that never fails.
Obey our Father's voice;
And in his name rejoice.
- Ye blessed children, come; The days of banishment are past,
And hear'n is now your home!”
Psalm civ, 34. (c. M.)
1 WHEN languor and disease invade
This trembling house of clay,
And long to soar away.
The whispers of his love;
Where Jesus pleads above.
3 Sweet on thy faithfulness to rest,
Whose love can never end;
For all things to depend.
To trust thy truth divine :
And have no will but thine.
What will the fountain be,
Immediately from thee!
Philippians i, 23. (L. M.)
1 TO Jesus, the crown of my hope,
My soul is in haste to be gone :
And waft me away to his throne. 2 O then shall the veil be remov’d,
And round me thy brightness be pour'd;
I shall see whom unseen I ador'd.
The trials, temptations, and woes,
4 Or, if yet remember'd above,
Remembrance no sadness shall raise ;
New themes for my wonder and praise. 5 Thus the strokes which from sin and from pain
Shall set me eternally free,
Luke ii, 8–10. (L.M.)
1 WHEN Jordan hush'd his waters still,
And silence slept on Zion's hill ;
The glorious hosts of Zion came :
While thus they struck their harps and sung : 3 O Zion, lift thy raptur'd eye,
The long expected hour is nigh ;
The Prince of Salem comes to reign!
Bids Satan and his host depart;
5 O Zion, lift thy raptur'd eye,
The long expected hour is nigh:
Exodus xxxiii, 22. (7's.)
Let me hide myself in thee :
Cleanse me from its guilt and pow'r! 2 Not the labour of
Thou must save, and thou alone!
Simply to thy cross I cling :
Wash me, Saviour, or I die!
When my eyelids close in death,
Galatians vi, 14. (L.M.) 1 WE sing the praise of him who died, Of him who died
the cross : The sinner's hope let men deride,
For this we count the world but loss. 2 The cross ! it takes our guilt away,
It holds the fainting spirit up;
And sweetens every bitter cup.
And nerves the feeble arm for fight;
And gilds the bed of death with light. 4 The balm of life, the cure of woe,
The measure and the pledge of love ;
Psalm xxvi, 8.' (L. M.)
1 DEAR is the sabbath morn to me,
When village bells awake the day,
Call me from earthly cares away. 2 And dear to me the winged hour,
Spent in thy hallow'd courts, O Lord ;