Hymns

THOUGH troubles assail, and dangers affright; Though friends should all fail, and foes all unite; Yet one thing secures us — whatever betide, The Scripture assures us, the Lord will provide.

The birds without barn or storehouse are fed, From them let us learn to trust for our bread; His saints what is fitting shall ne’er be denied, So long as ’tis written, the Lord will provide.

We may, like the ships, by tempests be tossed On perilous deeps, but cannot be lost; Though Satan enrages the wind and the tide, The promise engages, the Lord will provide.

His call we obey, like Abram of old, Not knowing our way, but faith makes us bold j For though we are strangers, we have a true Guide, And trust, in all dangers, the Lord will provide.

When Satan appears to stop up our path,

And fill us with fears, we triumph by faith;

He cannot take from us, though oft he has tried,

This heart-cheering promise, the Lord will provide.

He tells us we’re weak, our hope is in vain, The good that we seek we ne’er shall obtain; But when such suggestions our spirits have plied, This answers all questions, the Lord will provide.

No strength of our own, or goodness, we claim; Yet, since we have known the Saviour’s great name, In this our strong tower for safety we hide, The Lord is our power, the Lord will provide.

When life sinks apace, and death is in view, This word of His grace will carry us through; No fearing or doubting with Christ on our side: We hope to die trusting, the Lord will provide.

John Newton.

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T HAVE a treasure which I prize;
Its like I cannot find,
There ’s nothing like it on the earth;
‘Tis this — a quiet mind.

But ’tis not that I ‘ra stupefied,
Or senseless, dull, or blind;

‘Tis God’s own peace within my heart,
Which forms my quiet mind.

I found this treasure at the cross;

And there to every kind
Of weary, heavy-laden souls,

Christ gives a quiet mind.

My Saviour’s death and risen life,

To give it were designed;
His love ’s the never-failing spring

Of this my quiet mind.

The love of God within my breast
My heart to Him doth bind;

This is the peace of heaven on earth,
This is my quiet mind.

I ‘ve many a cross to take up now,

And many left behind;
But present troubles move me not,

Nor shake my quiet mind.

And what may be to-morrow’s cross

I never seek to find;
My Saviour says,” Leave that to me,

And keep a quiet mind.”

And well I know the Lord hath said,
To make my heart resigned,

That mercy still shall follow those
Who have this quiet mind.

I meet with pride of wit and wealth,
And scorn, and looks unkind;

It matters not — I envy none
While I ‘ve a quiet mind.

I ‘m waiting now to see my Lord,
Who ’s been to me so kind;

I want to thank Him face to face,
For this my quiet mind.

T^ATHER, I know that all my life

-■- Is portioned out for me,

And the changes that are sure to come

I do not fear to see;
But I ask Thee for a present mind

Intent on pleasing Thee.

I ask Thee for a thoughtful love,
Through constant watching wise,

To meet the glad with joyful smiles,
And to wipe the weeping eyes;

And a heart at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathise.

I would not have the restless will

That hurries to and fro,
Seeking for some great thing to do,

Or secret thing to know;
I would be treated as a child,

And guided where I go.

Wherever in the world I am,

In whatsoe’er estate,
I have a fellowship with hearts

To keep and cultivate j
And a work of lowly love to do

For the Lord on whom I wait.

So I ask Thee for the daily strength,

To none that ask denied,
And a mind to blend with outward life

While keeping at Thy side,
Content to fill a little space,

If Thou be glorified.

And if some things I do not ask

In my cup of blessing be,
I would have my spirit filled the more

With grateful love to Thee — More careful — not to serve Thee much,

But to please Thee perfectly.

There are briers besetting every path,

That call for patient care;
There is a cross in every lot,

And a need for earnest prayer;
But a lowly heart that leans on Thee

Is happy anywhere.

In a service which Thy will appoints,

There are no bonds for me; For my inmost heart is taught” the truth *

That makes Thy children free;
And a life of self- renouncing love,

Is a life of liberty.

A. L. Waring.

“OEHOLD, a Royal Bridegroom
*-* Hath called me for His bride!
I joyfully make ready

And hasten to His side.
He is a Royal Bridegroom,

But I am very poor!
Of low estate He chose me,

To show His love the more:
For He hath purchased for me

Such goodly rich array,
Oh, surely never bridegroom

Gave gifts like His away!

When first upon the mountains,

I, in the vale below,
Beheld Him waiting for me,

Heard His command to go;
I, poorest in the valley,

Oh, how could I prepare
To meet His royal presence?

How could I make me fair?
Ah! in His love He sent me

A garment clean and white:
And promised broidered raiment

All glorious in His sight.

And then He gave me glimpses
Of the jewels for my hair,

And the ornament most precious
For His chosen bride to wear.

First in my tears I washed me,

They could not make me clean:
A fountain then He showed me,

Strange until then unseen!
So close I ‘d lived beside it,

For many weary years,
Yet passing by the fountain,

Had bathed me in my tears.

0 love, O grace, that showed it!
Revealed its cleansing power! —

How could I choose but hasten
To meet Him from that hour?

1 said, I ’11 wait no longer!
He surely will provide

All for the toilsome journey,

Up the steep mountain side.
He sought me in the valley,

He knows my utmost need;
But He’s a Roval Bridegroom,

I shall be rich indeed.
Rich in His pardoning mercies,

Bounties that never cease:
Rich in His loving-kindness,

Rich in His joy and peace.
So then I took the raiment,

And the jewels that He sent,
And gazing on His beauty,

Up the hill-side I went.

And still with feeble footsteps,

And turning oft astray,
I go to meet the Bridegroom,

Though stumbling by the way.
I soil my royal garments

With earth where’er I fall,
I break and mar my ornaments,

But He will know them all.
For it was He who gave them;

Will He forget His own?
Ah! for the love He bore me,

He called! will He disown?
He sent His Guide to guide me:

He knew how blind, how frail,
The children of the valley:

He knew my love would fail.
He knew the mists above me

Would hide Him from my sight,
And I in darkness groping,

Would wander from the right.
I know that I must follow

Slow when I fain would soar;
That step by step, thus upward,

My Guide must go before.

Cleave close, dear Guide, and lead me!

I cannot go aright!
Through all that doth beset me,

Keep, keep me close in sight!
‘Tis but a little longer,

Methinks the end I see:
Oh! matchless love and mercy,

The Bridegroom waits for me;

Waits to present me faultless,
Before His Father’s throne;

His comeliness my beauty,
His righteousness my own.

A. S.

“When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then Thou

knewest my path.”

Y God, whose gracious pity I may claim,
Calling Thee Father — sweet, endearing
name!
The sufferings of this wTeak and weary frame,
All, all are knowm to Thee.

From human eye ’tis better to conceal Much that I suffer, much I hourly feel; But oh! the thought does tranquillise and heal-All, all is known to Thee.

Each secret conflict with indwelling sin,
Each sickening fear I ne’er the prize shall win,
Each pang from irritation, turmoil, din — All, all is known to Thee.

When in the morning unrefreshed I wake,
Or in the night but little sleep I take,
This brief appeal submissively I make —
All, all is known to Thee.

Nay, all by Thee is ordered, chosen, planned — Each drop that fills my daily cup; Thy hand Prescribes, for ills none else can understand; All, all is known to Thee.

The effectual means to cure what I deplore;
In me Thy longed-for likeness to restore;
Self to dethrone, never to govern more — All, all is known to Thee.

And this continued feebleness, this state
Which seems to unnerve and incapacitate,
Will work the cure my hopes and prayer await — That can I leave to Thee.

Nor will the bitter draught distasteful prove, When I recall the Son of Thy dear love; The cup Thou wouldst not for our sakes remove — That cup He drank for me.

He drank it to the dregs — no drop remained Of wrath, for those whose cup of woe He drained; Man ne’er can know what that sad cup contained — All, all is known to Thee.

And welcome, precious, can His Spirit make,
My little drop of suffering for His sake.
Father, the cup I drink, the path I take,
All, all is known to Thee.

Adelaide L. Newton.

MEMOIR OF ALICE B. WHITALL. 2>°Z

gest in |esws,

T TE rest in Christ, the Son of God,
* Who took the servant’s form;

His love is our abiding-place,
And refuge from the storm.

At peace with God, no ills we dread

In Christ is our repose:
Our life is hid with Him in God;

Secure from all our foes.

Not death, nor hell, nor Satan’s power,
Can touch the life thus given;

Its source and centre is enthroned
At God’s right hand in heaven.

He lives in us — in Him we live;

With life eternal blest:
And while by faith and hope we wait,

In Christ, our life, we rest.

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T WORSHIP thee, sweet Will of God!
And all thy ways adore,
And every day I live, it seems
I love thee more and more.

Thou wert the blessed end and rule

Of Jesus’ toils and tears;
Thou wert the passion of His heart

Those three and thirty years.

And He hath breathed into my heart

A special love of thee;
A love to lose my will in His,

And by that loss be free.

I love to kiss the prints, where thou

Hast set thine unseen feet,
I cannot fear thee — blessed will,

Thine empire is so sweet i

When obstacles and trials seem

Like prison walls to be,
I do the little I can do,

And leave the rest to thee.

I know not what it is to doubt;

My heart is always gay;
I run no risks, for come what will

Thou always hast thy way.

I have no cares, O blessed Will!

For all my cares are thine;
I live in triumph, Lord, for Thou

Hast made Thy triumphs mine.

And when it seems nor chance nor change

From grief can set me free,
Hope finds its strength in helplessness,

And gaily waits on thee.

Man’s weakness waiting upon God

Its end can never miss,
For man on earth no work can do

More angel like than this.

Ride on, ride on triumphantly,

Thou glorious Will, ride on!
Faith’s pilgrim sons behind thee, take

The road that thou hast gone.

He always wins who sides with God;

No chance to him is lost;
God’s will is sweetest to him, when

It triumphs at his cost.

Ill that He blesses is our good,

And unblest good is ill;
And all is right that seems most wrong,

If it be His sweet Will.

Faber.

u
“pATHER, into Thy loving hands
My feeble spirit I commit,
While wandering in these Border-Lands,
Until Thy voice shall summon it.

Father, I would not dare to choose
A longer life, an earlier death;

I know not what my soul might lose
By shortened or protracted breath.

These Border-Lands are calm and still,
And solemn are their silent shades;

And my heart welcomes them, until
The light of life’s long evening fades.

I heard them spoken of with dread,
As fearful and unquiet places;

Shades, where the living and the dead
Look sadly in each other’s faces.

But since Thy hand hath led me here,
And I have seen the Border-Land;

Seen the dark river flowing near,
Stood on its brink, as now I stand,

There has been nothing to alarm

My trembling soul; how could I fear

While thus encircled with Thine arm?
I never felt Thee half so near.

What should appal me in a place
That brings me hourly nearer Thee?

When I may almost see Thy face — Surely ’tis here my soul would be.

They say the waves are dark and deep,
That faith has perished in the river;

They speak of death with fear, and weep,
Shall my soul perish? Never! Never!

I know that Thou wilt never leave
The soul that trembles while it clings

To Thee: I know Thou wilt achieve
Its passage on Thine outspread wings.

And since I first was brought so near
The stream that flows to the Dead Sea,

I think that it has grown more clear
And shallow than it used to be.

I cannot see the golden gate
Unfolding yet, to welcome me;

I cannot yet anticipate

The joy of heaven’s jubilee;

But I will calmly watch and pray
Until I hear my Saviour’s voice

Calling my happy soul away,
To see His glory, and rejoice.

tnw art.

/^HILD of my love, “lean hard,”

^-” And let me feel the pressure of thy care;

I know thy burden, child; I shaped it,

Poised it in Mine own hand, made no proportion

In its weight to thine unaided strength;

For even, as I laid it on, I said,

“I shall be near, and while she leans on Me,

This burden shall be Mine, not hers.

So shall I keep my child within the circling arms

Of Mine own love.” Here lay it down, nor fear

To impose it on a shoulder which upholds

The government of worlds. Yet closer come —

Thou art not near enough, I would embrace thy

care, So I might feel my child reposing on my heart. Thou lovest me? I know it. Doubt not, then; But, loving me — lean hard.

Matt. viii. 19.

A NYWHERE with Jesus, says the Christian heart * Let Him take me where He will, so we do not

part; Always sitting at His feet, there ’s no cause for fears; Anywhere with Jesus in this vale of tears.

Anywhere with Jesus, though He leadeth me

Where the path is rough and long, where the dangers

be;
Though He taketh from me all I love below,
Anywhere with Jesus will I gladly go.

Anywhere with Jesus, in the summer heat, Anywhere with Jesus, through the winter sleet, Anywhere with Jesus, where the bright sun shines; Anywhere with Jesus, when the day declines.

Anywhere with Jesus, though He please to bring

Into fires the fiercest, into suffering;

Though He bid me work or wait, or only bear for

Him, Anywhere with Jesus still shall be my hymn.

Anywhere with Jesus, though it be the tomb, With its frighting terror, with its dreaded gloom; Though it be the weariness of a long-drawn life, Fainting with the constant toil, drooping in the strife-

3io ON THE ROCR

Anywhere with Jesus, for it cannot be
Dreary, dark, or desolate, where He is with me;
He will love me alway, every need supply,
Anywhere with Jesus, should I live or die.

Christ 0ur (Hufoe.

Isaiah xlii. 16.

T KNOW not the way I am going,
-*■ But well do I know my Guide;
“With a child-like trust I give my hand

To the mighty Friend by my side.
The only thing that I say to Him,

As He takes it, is,” Hold it fast,
Suffer me not to lose my way,

And bring me home at last.”

As when some helpless wanderer,

Alone in an unknown land, Tells the guide his destined place of rest,

And leaves all else in his hand; ‘Tis home, ’tis home, that we wish to reach;

He who guides us may choose the way;
And little we heed what path we take,

If nearer home each day.

Rev. xxi. 4.

“D EYOND the smiling and the weeping,
■*-* I shall be soon;

Beyond the waking and the sleeping,
Beyond the sowing and the reaping.
I shall be soon.

Love, rest, and home!

Sweet hope!

Lord, tarry not, but come.

Beyond the parting and the meeting,

I shall be soon j
Beyond the farewell and the greeting,
Beyond the pulse’s fever-beating,
I shall be soon.
Love, rest, and home!
Sweet hope!
Lord, tarry not, but come.

Bonar.

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