Lord, what a change within us one short hour "Lovest thou me?" I hear my Saviour say Lowly and solemn be Much have I borne, but not as I should be r My God I thank Thee who hast made My faith looks up to Thee Nearer, my God, to Thee Never hasting, never resting Nothing resting in its own completeness Nothing see we here in full perfection Of all the thoughts of God that are Oh live! Thus seems it we should say to our beloved O sweet home echo on the pilgrim's way Once slow and sad the evening fell One sweetly solemn thought Robin, to the bare bough clinging Rock of ages, cleft for me Saviour divine, we bend before Thee lowly See the dull dense clouds are breaking She, 'neath ice-mountains vast So here hath been dawning Sold by them that should have loved thee Some murmur when their sky is clear Source of my life's refreshing springs Speak gently! it is better far Still evermore for some great strength we pray Strive; yet I do not promise Sweet brooklet! ever gliding Take them, O Death, and bear away 110 20 52 For ever with the Lord. SWEET home echo on the pilgrim's way, Thrice welcome message from a land of light, As through a clouded sky the moonbeams stray, So on eternity's deep shrouded night Streams a mild radiance, from that cheering word, "So shall we be for ever with the Lord." At home with Jesus! He who went before, With Him all gathered! to that blessed home Here, kindred hearts are severed far and wide, "So shall we be for ever with the Lord." And is there ever perfect union here? Oh! daily sins lamented and confest, They come between us and the friends most dear, All prone to error-none set wholly free From the old serpent's soul-ensnaring chain, The truths one child of God can clearly see, He seeks to make His brother feel in vain ; But all shall harmonize in heaven's full chord, "So shall we be for ever with the Lord." O precious promise, mercifully given, Well may it hush the wail of earthly woe; Hymns from the Land of Luther. Morning. "His compassions fail not. They are new every morning."-Lam. iii, 22, 23. UES of the rich unfolding morn, Around his path are taught to swell; Thou rustling breeze so fresh and gay, Ye fragrant clouds of dewy steam, Why waste your treasures of delight Oh! timely happy, timely wise, Eyes that the beam celestial view, Which evermore makes all things new! New every morning is the love Our wakening and uprising prove; Through sleep and darkness safely brought, Restored to life, and power, and thought. New mercies, each returning day, New perils past, new sins forgiven, New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven. If in our daily course our mind New treasures still, of countless price, Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be, As for some dear familiar strain Such is the bliss of souls serene, O could we learn that sacrifice, What lights would all around us rise! We need not bid, for cloister'd cell, |