As Thy love hath won us
From the world away,
Still Thy hands put on us;
Bless us day by day.

4 Let Thine angels guide us;
Let Thine arms enfold;
In Thy bosom hide us,
Sheltered from the cold.
To Thyself us gather,
'Mid the ransomed host,
Praising Thee, the Father,
And the Holy Ghost.

GOD

306

OD in heaven, hear our singing!
Only little ones are we;

Yet a great petition bringing,

Father, now we come to Thee.

W. Whiting.

2 Let Thy kingdom come, we pray Thee;
Let the world in Thee find rest!
Let all know Thee and obey Thee,
Loving, praising, blessing, blest!

3 Let the sweet and joyful story

Of the Savior's wondrous love,
Wake on earth a song of glory,
Like the angels' song above!

4 Father, send the glorious hour!
Every heart be Thine alone!
For the kingdom, and the power,
And the glory are Thine own.

F. R. Havergal.

307

ERE behold me, as I cast me

HER

'Neath Thy throne, O glorious King!
Sorrows thronging, child-like longing,
Son of Man, to Thee I bring.
Let me find Thee!

Let me find Thee!

Me, a poor and worthless thing.

2 Look upon me, Lord, I pray Thee,
Let Thy Spirit dwell in mine;
Thou hast sought me, Thou hast bought me,
Only Thee to know I pine.

Let me find Thee!: ||

Take my heart and own me Thine!

3 Naught I ask for, naught I strive for,
But Thy grace, so rich and free,
That Thou givest whom Thou lovest,
And who truly cleave to Thee.
Let me find Thee! : ||

He hath all things who hath Thee.

4 Earthly treasure, mirth and pleasure,
Glorious name, or golden hoard
Are but weary, void and dreary,
To the heart that longs for God.
Let me find Thee!: ||

I am Thine, O mighty Lord!

J. Neander. C. Winkworth, Tr.

308

Y SOUL, be on thy guard!

Ten thousand foes arise;

The hosts of sin are pressing hard

To draw thee from the skies.

2 Oh, watch, and fight, and pray!
The battle ne'er give o'er;
Renew it boldly every day,
And help divine implore.

3 Ne'er think the victory won,
Nor lay thine armor down:
Thy arduous work will not be done
Till thou obtain thy crown.

4 Fight on, my soul, till death

Shall bring thee to thy God!

He'll take thee, at thy parting breath,
Up to His blest abode.

309

EHOVAH, let me now adore Thee,

Thou?

G. Heath.

Lord, as

With songs I fain would come before Thee;
O let Thy Spirit deign to teach me now.
To praise Thee in His name, through whom

alone

Our songs can please Thee, through Thy blesséd Son.

2 Yes, draw me to the Son, O Father,

That so the Son may draw me up to Thee; Let every power within me gather,

To own Thy sway, O Spirit-rule in me, That so the peace of God may in me dwell, And I may sing for joy and praise Thee well.

3 Grant me Thy Spirit; then my praises

Will sound aright, no jarring tone or word; Sweet are the songs the heart then raises, Then I can pray in truth and spirit, Lord; Thy Spirit bears mine up on eagles' wing, To join the psalms the heav'nly choirs now sing.

4 For He can plead for me with sighings
That are unutterable to lips like mine;
He bids me pray with earnest cryings,
Bears witness with my soul that I am
Thine,

An heir with Christ, and thus may dare to say,
O Abba, Father, hear me when I pray.

5 When thus Thy Spirit in me burneth, And makes this cry to break from out my heart,

Thy heart, O Father, toward me yearneth, And longs all precious blessings to impart; Thy ready love rejoiceth to fulfill

The prayer breath'd out according to Thy, will.

6 And what Thy Spirit thus hath taught me To seek from Thee, must needs be such a

prayer

As Thou wilt grant, through Him who bought me,

And raised me up to be Thy child and heir; In Jesus' name I fearless seek Thy face, And take from Thee, my Father, grace for grace.

7 O joy, our hope and trust are founded

On His sure word and witness in the heart; I know Thy mercies are unbounded,

And all good gifts Thou freely wilt impart, Nay, more is lavished by Thy bounteous hand Than we can ask or seek or understand.

8 O joy! In His name we draw near Thee, Who ever pleadeth for the sons of men; I ask in faith and Thou wilt hear me, In Him Thy promises are all Amen. O joy for me! And praise be ever Thine, Whose wondrous love has made such blessings mine!

B. Crasselius. C. Winkworth, Tr.