I have call'd Thee, Abba, Father! I have stay'd my heart on Thee! Storms may howl, and clouds may gather, All must work for good to me. Man may trouble and distress me, "Twill but drive me to Thy breast; Life with trials hard may press me, Heaven will bring me sweeter rest! Oh, 'tis not in grief to harm me, While Thy love is left to me! Oh, 'twere not in joy to charm me, Were that joy unmix'd with Thee! Take, my soul, thy full salvation; Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care; Joy to find, in every station, Something still to do or bear: Think what Spirit dwells within thee! What a Father's smile is thine! What a Saviour died to win thee! Child of Heaven, shouldst thou repine? Haste, then, on from grace to glory, Arm'd by faith, and wing'd by prayer; Heaven's eternal day's before thee, God's own hand shall guide thee there! Soon shall close thy earthly mission, Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days; Hope soon change to glad fruition, Faith to sight, and prayer to praise ! HENRY FRANCIS LYTE. SAVIOUR, WHO THY FLOCK ART SAVIOUR, Who Thy flock art feeding Now, these little ones receiving, Fold them in Thy gracious arm ; There, we know, Thy word believing, Only there, secure from harm! Never, from Thy pasture roving, Keep them all life's dangerous way: Then, within Thy fold eternal, Let them find a resting-place, Feed in pastures ever vernal, ROCK OF AGES. Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee! Not the labors of my hands Nothing in my hand I bring; While I draw this fleeting breath, AUGUSTUS MONTAGUE TOPLADY. JESU, LOVER OF MY SOUL. JESU, lover of my soul, Let me to Thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is high! Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, Till the storm of life is past, Safe into the haven guide; Oh receive my soul at last! Other refuge have I none; Hangs my helpless soul on Thee; Leave, ah! leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me! All my trust on Thee is stay'd, All my help from Thee I bring: Cover my defenceless head With the shadow of Thy wing! Wilt Thou not regard my call? Wilt thou not accept my prayer? Lo! I sink, I faint, I fall! Lo! on Thee I cast my care! Reach me out Thy gracious hand! While I of Thy strength receive, Hoping against hope I stand, Dying, and behold I live! Thou, O Christ, art all I want; More than all in Thee I find: Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, Heal the sick, and lead the blind! Just and holy is Thy Name; I am all unrighteousness; False and full of sin I am, Thou art full of truth and grace. Plenteous grace with Thee is found- CHARLES WESLEY. HOW SWEET THE NAME OF JESUS SOUNDS. How sweet the Name of Jesus sounds In a believer's ear! It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds, It makes the wounded spirit whole, And to the weary rest. Dear Name! the rock on which I build, My shield and hiding-place, My never-failing treasury, fill'd By Thee my prayers acceptance gain, And I am own'd a child. Jesus, my Shepherd, Husband, Friend, Weak is the effort of my heart, And cold my warmest thought; Till then, I would Thy love proclaim JOHN NEWTON. LOVEST THOU ME? John xxi. 16. HARK, my soul! it is the Lord, 'Tis thy Saviour, hear His word; Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee: "Say, poor sinner, lov'st thou Me? "I deliver'd thee when bound, And, when bleeding, heal'd thy wound; "Can a woman's tender care "Mine is an unchanging love, When the work of grace is done; Lord! it is my chief complaint, WILLIAM COWPER. THE STRANGER AND HIS FRIEND. A POOR wayfaring man of grief Hath often cross'd me on my way, Who sued so humbly for relief, That I could never answer, Nay. I had not power to ask his name, Whither he went, or whence he came. Yet there was something in his eye That won my love, I knew not why. Once, when my scanty meal was spread, He enter'd; not a word he spake; Just perishing for want of bread; I gave him all; he bless'd it, brake, And ate; but gave me part again; Mine was an angel's portion then; For, while I fed with eager haste, That crust was manna to my taste. I spied him, where a fountain burst Clear from the rock; his strength was gone; The heedless water mock'd his thirst, I ran to raise the sufferer up; Thrice from the stream he drain'd my cup, 'Twas night; the floods were out; it blew A winter hurricane aloof; I heard his voice abroad, and flew To bid him welcome to my roof; I warm'd, I clothed, I cheer'd my guest, Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death, I roused his pulse, brought back his breath, Revived his spirit, and supplied In prison I saw him next condemn'd To meet a traitor's death at morn: The tide of lying tongues I stemm'd, And honor'd him 'midst shame and scorn; My friendship's utmost zeal to try, Then in a moment to my view The Stranger darted from disguise; The tokens in His hands I knew, My Saviour stood before mine eyes! | He spake; and my poor name He named: "Of Me thou hast not been ashamed; These deeds shall thy memorial be; Fear not; thou didst them unto Me." JAMES MONTGOMERY. COME, HOLY SPIRIT, HEAVENLY COME, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, In these cold hearts of ours. Look how we grovel here below, To reach eternal joys! In vain we tune our formal songs, In vain we strive to rise; Hosannas languish on our tongues, And our devotion dies. Dear Lord, and shall we ever lie At this poor dying rate? Our love so faint, so cold to Thee, And Thine to us so great! Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, With all Thy quickening powers; Come, shed abroad a Saviour's love, And that shall kindle ours. ISAAC WATTS VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS. COME, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire, And lighten with celestial fire; Thou the Anointing Spirit art, Who dost Thy sevenfold gifts impart. Thy blessed unction from above Is comfort, life, and fire of love; Enable with perpetual light The dulness of our blinded sight; Anoint and cheer our soiled face With the abundance of Thy grace; Keep far our foes, give peace at home; Where Thou art guide, no ill can come; Teach us to know the Father, Son, And Thee of Both, to be but One, That, through the ages all along, This may be our endless song, "Praise to thy eternal merit, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit!" Amen! AUTHOR UNKNOWN. VENI CREATOR. CREATOR SPIRIT, by whose aid O source of uncreated light, Plenteous of grace, descend from high, Proceeding Spirit, our defence, Who dost the gifts of tongues dispense, Refine and purge our earthly parts; Chase from our minds th' infernal foe, Make us eternal truths receive, Immortal honor, endless fame, JOHN DRYDEN. IN SORROW. GENTLY, Lord, oh, gently lead us, In the hour of pain and anguish, In the hour when death draws near, Suffer not our hearts to languish, Suffer not our souls to fear; And, when mortal life is ended, Bid us in Thine arms to rest, Till, by angel bands attended, We awake among the blest. THOMAS HASTINGS. LIGHT SHINING out of DARKNESS. His wonders to perform; Deep in unfathomable mines Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour; But sweet will be the flower. Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain. WILLIAM COWPER. |