Book of Hymns for Public and Private Devotion - novelonlinefull.com
You’re read light novel Book of Hymns for Public and Private Devotion Part 54 online at NovelOnlineFull.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit NovelOnlineFull.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
Welcome, pain! thou searcher rigorous!
Slay me, but my faith increase.
2 Sin, o'er sense so softly stealing; Doubt, that would my strength impair; Hence at once from life and feeling!-- Now my cross I gladly bear.
3 Up, my soul! with clear sedateness Read heaven's law, writ bright and broad, Up! a sacrifice to greatness, Truth, and goodness,--up to G.o.d!
4 Up to labor! from thee shaking Off the bonds of sloth, be brave!
Give thyself to prayer and waking; Toil some fainting heart to save!
321. L. M. Roscoe.
The Pilgrim.
1 Go, suffering pilgrim of the earth, Go, conscious of thy heavenly birth, And, 'midst the storms that round thee rise, Retrace thy journey to the skies.
2 What though the wild winds rage around?
Thou wilt not tremble at the sound; What though the waters o'er thee roll?
They touch not thine immortal soul.
3 See where, arrayed on either hand, The direful train of pa.s.sions stand; See hatred, envy, bar thy way, And foes more subtle still than they.
4 But, robed in innocence and truth, From all temptation guard thy youth; And from thy vestment's sacred bound Shake the dread fiends that cling around.
5 Go with pure heart and steadfast eyes, Strive on till that bright morn shall rise That gives thee to thy blest abode, To rest forever with thy G.o.d.
322. L. M. Norton.
Fellowship of His Sufferings.
1 Faint not, poor traveller, though the way Be rough, like that thy Saviour trod; Though cold and stormy lower the day, This path of suffering leads to G.o.d.
2 Nay, sink not, though from every limb Are starting drops of toil and pain; Thou dost but share the lot of Him With whom his followers are to reign.
3 Christian! thy friend, thy master, prayed, While dread and anguish shook his frame, Then met his sufferings undismayed; Wilt thou not strive to do the same?
4 O, thinkest thou his Father's love Shone round him then with fainter rays Than now, when, throned all height above, Unceasing voices hymn his praise?
5 Go, sufferer, calmly meet the woes Which G.o.d's own mercy bids thee bear; Then, rising as thy Saviour rose, Go, his eternal victory share.
323. L. M. Newton.
Trust in G.o.d.
1 Be still, my heart! these anxious cares To thee are burdens, thorns, and snares, They cast dishonor on thy Lord, And contradict His gracious word.
2 Brought safely by His hand thus far, Why wilt thou now give place to fear?
How canst thou want if He provide, Or lose thy way with such a guide?
3 Did ever trouble yet befall, And He refuse to hear thy call?
And has He not His promise past, That thou shalt overcome at last?
4 He who has helped me hitherto Will help me all my journey through, And give me daily cause to raise New trophies to His endless praise.
324. 7s. M. Gaskell.
Refuge in G.o.d.
1 We would leave, O G.o.d, to Thee, Every anxious care and fear; Thou the troubled thought canst see, Thou canst dry the bitter tear.
2 Thou dost care for us, we know,-- Care with all a Father's love; Thou canst make each earthly woe Work to higher bliss above.
3 On this faith we fain would rest; Strengthen Thou its blessed power!
Steadfast keep it in our breast, Through each dark and trying hour.
325. L. M. Morpeth.
The Use of Tears.
1 How little of ourselves we know, Before a grief the heart has felt!
The lessons that we learn of woe Make strong the soul, as well as melt.
2 The energies too stern for mirth, The reach of thought, the strength of will, 'Mid cloud and tempest have their birth, Though blight and blast their course fulfil.
3 And yet 'tis when it mourns and fears, The laden spirit feels forgiven; And through the mist of falling tears We catch the clearest glimpse of heaven.
326. L. M. Bryant.