5 More of Thyself, oh! show me hour by

hour,

More of Thy glory, O my God and Lord;
More of Thyself, in all Thy grace and

power;

More of Thy love and truth, Incarnate
Word.

69

1

2

8

Rom. xii. 1. 64.64.10.10. C. E. MUDIE.

LIFT my heart to Thee,

Divine !

For Thou art all to me,

And I am Thine.

Is there on earth a closer bond than this,
That"
my Beloved's mine, and I am
His?"

Thine am I by all ties ;

But chiefly Thine,

That through Thy sacrifice,
Thou, Lord, art mine.

By Thine own cords of love, so sweetly wound

Around me, I to Thee am closely bound.

To Thee, Thou Bleeding Lamb,
I all things owe;

All that I have and am,

And all I know.

All that I have is now no longer mine, And I am not mine own; Lord, I am Thine.

How can I, Lord, withhold

Life's brightest hour

From Thee; or gathered gold,

Or any power?

Why should I keep one precious thing

from Thee,

[Self for me?

When Thou hast given

Thine own dear

5

I pray Thee, Saviour, keep
Me in Thy love,

Until death's holy sleep
Shall me remove

To that fair realm, where, sin and sorrow o'er,

Thon and Thine own are one for evermore.

70

1

Psalm cxliii. 777. I. WILLIAMS.

LORD, in this Thy mercy's day,

Ere it pass for aye away,

On our knees we fall and pray.

2 Holy Jesus! grant us tears,
Fill us with heart-searching fears
Ere that awful doom appears.

3 Lord, on us Thy Spirit pour,
Kneeling lowly at the door,
Ere it close for evermore.

4 By Thy night of agony,
By Thy supplicating cry,
By Thy willingness to die:

5 By Thy tears of bitter woe
For Jerusalem below,

Let us not Thy love forego.

6 'Neath Thy wings let us have place,
Lest we lose this day of grace,
Ere we shall behold Thy face.

71

1

Matt. xi. 28.

8.5.8.3.

ART thou weary, art thou languid,

Art distrest?

"Come to Me," saith One, "and coming, Be at rest!"

2 Hath He marks to lead me to Him, If He be my guide?

"In His feet and hands are wound-prints And His side."

3 Hath He diadem as monarch
That His brow adorns?
"Yea, a crown, in very surety,
But of thorns."

4 If I find Him, if I follow,
What His guerdon here?
"Many a sorrow, many a labour,
Many a tear."

5 If I still hold closely to Him,
What hath He at last?
"Sorrow vanquished, labour ended,
Jordan past."

6 If I ask Him to receive me,
Will He say me nay?

'Not till earth, and not till heaven
Pass away.

7 Finding, following, keeping, struggling, Is He sure to bless? "All the host of the redeemed

72

1

WE

Answer, Yes!"

John xiv. 19. C. M. WHITTIER.

E may not climb the heavenly steeps To bring the Lord Christ down; In vain we search the lowest deeps, For Him no depths can drown.

2 But warm, sweet, tender, even yet
A present help is He;

And faith has yet its Olivet,
And love its Galilee.

3 The healing of His seamless dress Is by our beds of pain;

We touch Him in life's throng and press, And we are whole again.

Through Him the first fond prayers are said,

Our lips of childhood frame;
The last low whispers of our dead,
Are burdened with His name.

5 O Lord and Master of us all!

Whate'er our name or sign;
We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call,
We test our lives by Thine.

6 We faintly hear, we dimly see,
In differing phrase we pray;
But, dim or clear, we own in Thee
The Life, the Truth, the Way.

73 1 Peter i. 8.

1

S

L. M. A. TENNYSON.

TRONG Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen Thy face,

By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing what we cannot prove; 2 Thou wilt not leave us in the dust: Thou madest man, he knows not why: He thinks he was not made to die: And Thou hast made him: Thou art just. 3 Thou seemest human and divine,

The highest, holiest manhood, Thou: Our wills are ours, we know not how: Our wills are ours, to make them Thine. 4 Our little systems have their day:

They have their day and cease to be: They are but broken lights of Thee. And Thou, O Lord, art mere than they.

#H

5 We have but faith: we cannot know; For knowledge is of things we see,

And yet we trust it comes from Thee; A beam in darkness: let it grow.

6 Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell: That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before.

74 Luke vii. 22. L. M. W. T. MATSON,

1ORD, I was blind! I could not see
In Thy marred visage any grace;
But now the beauty of Thy face
In radiant vision dawns on me.
2 Lord, I was deaf! I could not hear
The thrilling music of Thy voice;
But now I hear Thee and rejoice,
And all Thy uttered words are dear!
3 Lord, I was dumb! I could not speak
The grace and glory of Thy name;
But now, as touched with living flame,
My lips Thine eager praises wake,
4 Lord, I was dead! I could not stir
My lifeless soul to come to Thee;
But now, since Thou hast quickened me,
I rise from sin's dark sepulchre.

5 For Thou hast made the blind to see,
The deaf to hear, the dumb to speak,
The dead to live; and lo, I break
The chains of my captivity.

75

1

Rev. iii. 20. 76.76.76.76. W. W. How.
JESUS, Thou art standing
Outside the fast-closed door,

In lowly patience waiting
To pass the threshold o'er: