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Lord, what a change within us one short hour
"Lovest thou me?" I hear
Lowly and solemn be
my Saviour say
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
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
Speak gently! it is better far
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
Still evermore for some great strength we pray
For ever with the Lord.
SWEET home echo on the pilgrim's way,
Streams a mild radiance, from that cheering word,
At home with Jesus! He who went before,
With Him all gathered! to that blessed home
Of that fair city where the journey ends.
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.
"His compassions fail not. They are new every morning."-Lam. iii, 22, 28.
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,
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 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,