477

L. M.

HENRY MOORE.

Wisdom and Virtue sought from God.
CUPREME and universal Light!

SUP

Fountain of reason! Judge of right!
Parent of good! whose blessings flow
On all above, and all below:

2 Assist us, Lord, to act, to be,
What nature and thy laws decree;
Worthy that intellectual flame,
Which from thy breathing spirit came!

3 May our expanded souls disclaim
The narrow view, the selfish aim;
But with a Christian zeal embrace
Whate'er is friendly to our race.

4 O Father, grace and virtue grant!
No more we wish, no more we want:
To know, to serve thee, and to love,
Is peace below, is bliss above.

478

C. M.

Prayer for Wisdom.

MONTGOMERY.

ALMIGHTY God! in humble prayer,

To thee our souls we lift;

Do thou our waiting minds prepare
For thy most needful gift.

2 We ask not golden streams of wealth, Along our path to flow;

We ask not undecaying health,

Nor length of years below.

3 We ask not honors, which an hour
May bring and take away;

We ask not pleasure, pomp, and power,
Lest we should go astray.

4 We ask for wisdom; - Lord, impart
The knowledge how to live;
A wise and understanding heart
To all before thee give.

5 The young remember thee in youth, Before the evil days!

479

The old be guided by thy truth,
In wisdom's pleasant ways!

10's M.

Christ's Presence sought.

LYTE

ABIDE with me! Fast falls the eventide,

The darkness deepens - Lord, with me
abide!

When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me!

2 Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;.
O thou who changest not, abide with me!

3 I need thy presence every passing hour: What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power?

Who like thyself my guide and stay can be? Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me!

480

C. M.

Help Thou my Unbelief.

WREFORD.

ORD! I believe; thy power I own,
Thy word I would obey;

I wander comfortless and lone,
When from thy truth I stray.

2 Lord! I believe; but gloomy fears
Sometimes bedim my sight;

I look to thee with prayers and tears,
And cry for strength and light.

3 Lord! I believe; but oft, I know,
My faith is cold and weak;
Strengthen my weakness, and bestow
The confidence I seek!

4 Yes, I believe; and only thou
Canst give my soul relief;

Lord to thy truth my spirit bow,
Help thou my unbelief!

481

C. M.

Serving God.

T. H. GILL.

NOT to fill the mouth of fame
My longing soul is stirred;

O, give me a diviner name!
Call me thy servant, Lord!

2 No longer would my soul be known
As self-sustained and free:

O, not mine own! O, not mine own!
Lord, I belong to thee!

3 In each aspiring burst of prayer,
Sweet leave my soul would ask
Thine every burden, Lord, to bear,
To do thine every task.

4 In life, in death, on earth, in heaven,
No other name for me!

482

The same sweet style and title given
Through all eternity.

483

7's M.

Lord habe Mercy.

MILMAN.

LORD, have merey when we pray

Strength to seek a better way;
When our wakening thoughts begin
First to loathe their cherished sin;
Sigh for death, yet fear it still,
From the dread of future ill;
When the dim, advancing gloom
Tells us that our hour is come.

2 Lord, have mercy, when we know
First how vain this world below;
When its darker thoughts oppress,
Doubts perplex, and fears distress;
When the earliest gleam is given,
Of the bright but distant heaven;
Then thy fostering grace afford,
Then, O then, have mercy, Lord!

C. M.

URWICK'S COLL

Prayer for Grace in Trial.

FATH

ATHER of all our mercies, thou
In whom we move and live,

Hear us in heaven, thy dwelling, now,
And answer and forgive.

2 When, harassed by ten thousand foes,
Our helplessness we feel,

O, give the weary soul repose,
The wounded spirit heal.

3 When dire temptations gather round,
And threaten or allure,

By storm or calm, in thee be found
A refuge strong and sure.

4 When age advances, may we grow
In faith, in hope, and love;

And walk in holiness below,
To holiness above.

Jaith without Works is Dead.

AS body when the soul has fled,

DRUMMOND.

As barren trees, decayed and dead,
Is faith; a hopeless, lifeless thing,
If not of righteous deeds the spring.

2 One cup of healing oil and wine,
One teardrop shed on mercy's shrine,
Is thrice more grateful, Lord, to thee,
Than lifted eye or bended knee.

3 To doers only of the word, Propitious is the righteous Lord;

He hears their cries, accepts their prayers, Binds up their wounds, and soothes their cares.