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6 Lord, with this grace our hearts inspire:
Answer our sacrifice by fire;
Thou art the God who heareth prayer.
I fly to thee, my Lord !
But in thy written word.
Does all my griefs assuage: Here I behold my Saviour's face
Almost in every page. 3 This is the field where hidden lies
The pearl of price unknown: The merchant is divinely wise
Who makes this pearl his own. 4 Here, consecrated water flows
To quench my thirst of sin;
Nor danger lurks therein.
Where wit and reason fail ; My guide to everlasting life
Through all this gloomy vale.
6 Oh, may thy counsels, Mighty God!
My roving feet command; Nor I forsake the happy road
That leads to thy right hand. 171. THE LAMP.
C. M. Evan-Solomon-Canterbury. 1 Lamp of our feet, whereby we trace
Our path when wont to stray;
Brook by the traveller's way:
True manna from on high ;
Of realms beyond the sky:
And radiant cloud by day;
Our anchor and our stay:
Will of his glorious Son;
Or heaven itself be won!
The wisdom it imparts ;
With simple, childlike hearts.
A LIGHT IN A DARK PLACE. C.M.
Ballerma-Gloucester-Bishopthorpe. 1 How precious is the book divine,
By inspiration given!
To guide our souls to heaven.
In this dark vale of tears;
And quells our rising fears. 3 This lamp, through all the tedious night
Of life, shall guide our way; Till we behold the clearer light
Of an eternal day. 173.
Precious treasure, thou art mine;
Mine, to teach me what I am.
Mine, to show a Saviour's love;
3 Mine, to comfort in distress,
If the Holy Spirit bless ;
Man can triumph over death, 4 Mine, to tell of joys to come,
And the rebel sinner's doom;
Precious treasure, thou art mine.
8. 7. 8.7. AND SWORD.
7.7. Holstein-Eucharist – Edgeware. 1 Precious Bible! what a treasure
Does the word of God afford !
Let the world account me poor,
Having this I need no more. 2 Food to which the world's a stranger,
Here my hungry soul enjoys;
On a dying Christ I feed,
He is meat and drink indeed!
Or when Satan wounds my mind,
To the promises I flee,
Each affords a remedy.
Satan cannot make me yield;
While the Scripture truths are sure,
From his malice I'm secure.
When I take the Spirit's sword ;
'Tis a sword for conquest made,
Keen the edge and strong the blade. 6 Shall I envy then the miser,
Doting on his golden store ?
Jesus gives me in his Word,
Food and med'cine, shield and sword. 175.
FRUITFUL, EVER FLOURISHING. C. M.
Bloxham-Burton-Harborough. 1 The sacred Word, so fraught with use,
Is bright with beauty too,
Upon a sudden view.