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
FEEDING.

SAVIOUR, Who Thy flock art feeding
With the Shepherd's kindest care,
All the feeble gently leading,
While the lambs Thy bosom share;

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,
Let them be the lion's prey;
Let Thy tenderness so loving

Keep them all life's dangerous way:

Then, within Thy fold eternal,

Let them find a resting-place,

Feed in pastures ever vernal,
Drink the rivers of Thy grace!
WILLIAM AUGUSTUS MUHLENBERG.

ROCK OF AGES.

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee!
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy riven side which flow'd,
Be of sin the double cure,
Cleanse me from its guilt and power.

Not the labors of my hands
Can fulfil Thy law's demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears for ever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring;
Simply to Thy Cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless, look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the Fountain fly;
Wash me, Saviour, or I die!

While I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eyestrings break in death,
When I soar through tracts unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgment-throne;
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee!

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-
Grace to cover all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound;
Make and keep me pure within!
Thou of Life the Fountain art,
Freely let me take of Thee;
Spring Thou up within my heart!
Rise to all eternity!

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,
And drives away his fear!

It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast;
'Tis manna to the hungry soul,

And to the weary rest.

Dear Name! the rock on which I build,

My shield and hiding-place,

My never-failing treasury, fill'd
With boundless stores of grace,

By Thee my prayers acceptance gain,
Although with sin defiled;
Satan accuses me in vain,

And I am own'd a child.

Jesus, my Shepherd, Husband, Friend,
My Prophet, Priest, and King,
My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End,
Accept the praise I bring.

Weak is the effort of my heart,

And cold my warmest thought;
But when I see Thee as Thou art,
I'll praise Thee as I ought.

Till then, I would Thy love proclaim
With every fleeting breath;
And may the music of Thy Name
Refresh my soul in death!

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;
Sought thee wandering, set thee right,
Turn'd thy darkness into light.

"Can a woman's tender care
Cease toward the child she bare?
Yes, she may forgetful be;
Yet will I remember thee!

"Mine is an unchanging love,
Higher than the heights above,
Deeper than the depths beneath,
Free and faithful, strong as death.
"Thou shalt see my glory soon,

When the work of grace is done;
Partner of my throne shalt be;
Say, poor sinner, lov'st thou Me?”

Lord! it is my chief complaint,
That my love is weak and faint;
Yet I love Thee and adore!
Oh! for grace to love Thee more!

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,
He heard it, saw it hurrying on:

I ran to raise the sufferer up;

Thrice from the stream he drain'd my cup,
Dipt, and return'd it running o'er;
I drank, and never thirsted more.

'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,
Laid him on my own couch to rest;
Then made the hearth my bed, and seem'd
In Eden's garden while I dream'd.

Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death,
I found him by the highway-side:

I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,

Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment; he was heal'd:
I had myself a wound conceal'd;
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.

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,
He ask'd if I for him would die;
The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill;
But the free spirit cried, “I will.”

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
DOVE.

COME, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove,
With all Thy quickening powers,
Kindle a flame of sacred love

In these cold hearts of ours.

Look how we grovel here below,
Fond of these trifling toys;
Our souls can neither fly nor go

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
The world's foundations first were laid,
Come, visit every pious mind;
Come, pour Thy joys on human kind;
From sin and sorrow set us free,
And make Thy temples worthy Thee!

O source of uncreated light,
The Father's promised Paraclete!
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire,
Come, and Thy sacred unction bring,
To sanctify us while we sing!

Plenteous of grace, descend from high,
Rich in Thy sevenfold energy!
Thou strength of His almighty hand
Whose power does heaven and earth com-
mand!

Proceeding Spirit, our defence,

Who dost the gifts of tongues dispense,
And crown'st Thy gifts with eloquence!

Refine and purge our earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
Our frailties help, our vice control-
Submit the senses to the soul;
And when rebellious they are grown,
Then lay Thy hand, and hold them down.

Chase from our minds th' infernal foe,
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow;
And, lest our feet should step astray,
Protect and guide us in the way.

Make us eternal truths receive,
And practise all that we believe;
Give us Thyself, that we may see
The Father, and the Son, by Thee.

Immortal honor, endless fame,
Attend the almighty Father's name!
The Saviour Son be glorified,
Who for lost man's redemption died!
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete, to Thee!

JOHN DRYDEN.

IN SORROW.

GENTLY, Lord, oh, gently lead us,
Pilgrims in this vale of tears,
Through the trials yet decreed us,
Till our last great change appears.
When temptation's darts assail us,
When in devious paths we stray,
Let Thy goodness never fail us,
Lead us in Thy perfect way.

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.
GOD moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,

Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,

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.