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For the thrill, the leap, the gladness

Of our pulses flowing iree; E'en for every touch of sadness

That may bring us nearer thee.
Hearty be our work and willing,

As to thee and not to men;
For we know our soul's fulfilling
Is to give it thee again.

T. W. Fex-Blake.

Old 132, 29. 179.

All in all.

Dundee, 22. O Thou who art of all that is

Beginning both and end,
We follow thee through unknown paths,

Since all to thee must tend:
Thy judgments are a mighty deep

Beyond all fathom-line;
Our wisdom is the childlike heart;

Our strength, to trust in thine.
We bless thee for the skies above,

And for the earth beneath;
For hopes that blossom here below,

And wither not with death;
But most we bless thee for thyself,

O heavenly Light within,
Whose dayspring in our hearts dispels

The darkness of our sin.
Be thou in joy our deeper joy,

Our comfort when distressed;
Be thou by day our strength for toil,

And thou by night our rest!
And when these earthly dwellings fail,

And Time's last hour is come,
Be thou, O God, our dwelling-place
And our eternal home!

181. Giving thanks. Stephanos, 72.

(Repeat first two lines.) My God, I thank thee, who hast made

The earth so bright;
So full of splendor and of joy,

Beauty and light;
So many glorious things are here,

Noble and right!
I thank thee, too, that thou hast made

Joy to abound;
So many gentle thoughts and deeds

Circling us round,
That in the darkest spot of earth

Some love is found.
I thank thee more that all our joy

Is touched with pain;
That shadows fall on brightest hours,

That thorns remain;
So that earth's bliss may be our guide,

And not our chain.
For thou who knowest, Lord, how soon

Our weak heart clings,
Hast given us joys, tender and true,

Yet all with wings,
So that we see, gleaming on high,

Diviner things.
I thank thee, Lord, that thou hast kept

The best in store;
We have enough, yet not too much

To long for more, -
A yearning for a deeper peace,

Not known before.

F. L. HOSMER.

Stockwell, 49. 180.

Happy life.

Benneson, 44. Lord, we thank thee for the pleasure

That our happy life-time gives, The inestimable treasure

Of a soul that ever lives ;Mind that looks before and after,

Yearning for its home above; Human tears, and human laughter,

And the depth of human love:

ADELAIDE A. PROCTER.

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Ezra, 9.

183.

All's well.
Ask and receive,-'tis sweetly said;

Yet what to plead for know I not;
For wish is worsted, hope o'ersped,

And aye to thanks returns my thought. If I would pray, I've naught to say

But this, that God may be God still; For him to live is still to give,

And sweeter than my wish his will. O wealth of life beyond all bound!

Eternity each moment given! What plummet may the Present sound?

Who promises a future heaven? Or glad, or grieved, oppressed, relieved,

In blackest night, or brightest day, Still pours the flood of golden good,

And more than heartfull fills me aye. "All mine is thine," the sky-soul saith;

“The wealth I am, must thou become; Richer and richer, breath by breath,

Immortal gain, immortal room!” And since all his mine also is,

Life's gift outruns my fancies far, And drowns the dream in larger stream,

As morning drinks the morning-star.

185. Deep on deep. Arlington, 19.

St. Agnes, 31. O God! thy power is wonderful,

Thy glory passing bright;
Thy wisdom, with its deep on deep,

A rapture to the sight.
Thy justice is the gladdest thing

Creation can behold;
Thy tenderness so meek, it wins

The guilty to be bold.
All lives may draw upon thy power,

Thy mercy may command;
And still outflows thy silent sea,

Immutable and grand.

F. W, FABER.

St. Agnes, 31. 186. In thy care.

Balerma, 21. My heart is resting, O my God!

I will give thanks and sing:
My heart is at the secret source

Of every precious thing.
I thirst for springs of heavenly life,

And here all day they rise:
I seek the treasure of thy love,

And close at hand it lies.

D.A. WASSON.

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ANNA L, WARING.

Mine be the reverent listening love

That waits all day on thee; The service of a watchful heart

Which no one else can see;
The faith that, in a hidden way

No other eye may kņow,
Finds all its daily work prepared,

And loves to have it so.
My heart is resting, O my God!

My heart is in thy care:
I hear the voice of joy and praise

Resounding everywhere! 187.

The heritage. St. Agnes, 31. I HAVE a heritage of joy

That yet I must not see:
The Father's hand that makes it mine

Is keeping it for me.
I have a certainty of love

That sets my heart at rest;
A calm assurance for to-day

That to be thus is best.
And a new song is in my mouth

To long loved music set,
Glory to thee for all the grace

I have not tasted yet!
Glory to thee for strength withheld,

For want and weakness known,
The fear that sends me to thy breast

For what is most mine own.
My heart is resting, O my God!

My heart is in thy care:
I hear the voice of joy and praise
Resounding everywhere!

Anna L. Waring 188.

Surprise. Palestine, 68. A LIVING, loving, lasting word, My listening ear believing heard,

While bending down in prayer; Like a sweet breeze that none can stay, It passed my soul upon its way,

And left a blessing there.

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Then joyful thoughts, that come and go By paths the holy angels know,

Encamped around my soul:
As in a dream of blest repose,
Mid withered reeds a river rose,

And through the desert stole.
I lifted up my eyes to see-
The wilderness was glad for me,

My heart within was strong!
and sweeter, nearer, clearer heard,
It came, that everlasting word
Of promise and of song!

Anna L. Waring. 189. Hidden in light. Palestine, 68. Look up, look up, my soul, still higher! On to the heavenly goal aspire,

On God's love ever lean: Burst this dull earth's control, and wing Thy way where no clouds roll, and sing

In deeps of God unseen. What though thy way be dark, and earth With ceaseless care do cark, till mirth

To thee no sweet strain sings? Still hide thy life above, and still Believe that God is love; fulfil Whatever lot he brings.

A. E. Evans.

190.

Salvation. Greenville, 46. Know, my soul, thy full salvation!

Rise o’er sin and fear and care; Joy to find in every station

Something still to do and bear. Think what spirit dwells within thee,

Think what Father's smiles are thine, Think what he hath done to win thee;

Child of heaven, canst thou repine? Haste thee on from grace to glory, Armed with faith and winged with

prayer; Heaven's eternal day's before thee,

God's own hand shall guide thee there:

3

Faithful in thy earthly mission,

Faithful through thy pilgrim-days, Hope shall change to glad fruition, Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.

H. F. Lyte.

191. The happy pilgrim, Hummel, 23. Faint not along thine earthly road,

Thou pilgrim soul of mine;
Still, still be gladsome in thy God,

Still sing thy song divine!
Doth life in all bright ways for thee

Its glory oft unroll?
O, take thy pleasures holily,

Sing unto God, my soul!
A dreary desert dost thou trace,

Dim shineth thy far goal?
That desert make thy Holy Place,

Pursue thy song, my soul!
When the glad Spirit's voice divine

Through thy stirred deeps doth roll, When glows with faith that heart of

thine, Sing forth thy song, O soul!

T. H. Gill.

193. O’er seas of God. Mann, 14.

Hebron, 13. The winds that o'er my ocean run Reach through all worlds beyond the sun; Through life and death, through fate,

through time, Grand breaths of God they sweep sublime. A thread of Law runs through my prayer Stronger than iron cables are; And love and longing towards her goal Are pilots sweet to guide the soul. O thou God's mariner, heart of mine! Spread canvas to the airs divine! Spread sail! and let thy Fortune be Forgotten in thy Destiny. The wind ahead? The wind is free! Forevermore it favoreth me: To shores of God still blowing fair, O’er seas of God my bark doth bear. For Life must live, and Soul must sail, And Unseen over Seen prevail; And all God's argosies come to shore, Let ocean smile, or rage, or roar.

D. A. WASSON.

192, A travelling song. Arlington, 19. I TRAVEL all the irksome night

By ways to me unknown;
I travel like a bird in flight,

Onward,—but not alone.
In secret paths God leads me on

To his divine abode,
And shows new miracles of love

Through all the heavenly road.
The ways most rugged and perplexed

He renders smooth and straight: Through all the paths I'll sing his name,

Even unto heaven's gate.

194. The will of God. St. Agnes, 31. I WORSHIP thee, dear Will of God!

And all thy ways adore; And every day I live I seem

To love thee more and more. When obstacles and trials seem

Like prison-walls to be,
I do the little I can do,

And leave the rest to thee.
I have no cares, O blessed Will!

For all my cares are thine;
I live in triumph, Lord! for thou

Hast made thy triumphs mine.
I know not what it is to doubt;

My heart is ever gay;
I run no risk, for, come what will,

Thou always hast thy way.

ANON.

1562.

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I break my pilgrim staff,- I lay

Aside the toiling oar;
The angel sought so far away

I welcome at my door.
And all the jarring notes of life

Seem blending in a psalm,
And all the angles of its strife

Slow rounding into calm. And so the shadows fall apart,

And so the west winds play; And all the windows of my heart

I open to the day.

J. G. WHITTIER.

195. Freedom.

Laban, 33.
Naught have I else to do,-

I sing the whole day long;
And he whom most I love to please

Doth listen to my song.
Thou hast an ear to hear,

A heart to love and bless;
And though niy notes were e'er so rude,

Thou wouldst not hear the less.
My cage confines me round;

Abroad I cannot fly;
But though my wing is closely bound,

My heart's at liberty.
0, it is good to soar

These bolts and bars above,
To thee whose purpose I adore,

Whose providence I love;
And feel thy mighty will

My willfulness control,
And learn, a prisoner of the Lord,
The freedom of the soul.

Madame Guyon.

Dundee, 22. 196. My psalm.

Logan, 25. No longer förward or behind

I look in hope or fear,
But, grateful, take the good I find,

God's blessing now and here.
I plough no more a desert land,

To harvest weed and tare;
The manna dropping from God's hand

Rebukes my painful care.

197. Blessedness. Germany, 11. THERE is a something sweet and pure, Through life, through death it may en

dure; With steady foot I onward press, And long to win that Blessedness. It hath no shadow, this soft light, But makes each daily duty bright; It bids each heart-born tumult cease, And sobers joy to quiet peace. An all-abiding sense of Love, In silence falling from above; A conscience clear from willful sin, That hath no subterfuge within: Fixed duty claiming every power, And human love to charm each hour,These, these, my soul, make Blessedness: I ask no more, I seek no less. And yet I know these are too much; My very being's life they touch: Without them all, 0, let me still Find Blessedness in God's dear will.

MRS. L. J. VALL.

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