FATHER, I know that all my life
Is portioned out for me;

The changes that will surely come
I do not fear to see:

I ask Thee for a present mind,

Intent on pleasing Thee.

2 I ask Thee for a thoughtful love,
Through constant watching wise,
To meet the glad with joyful smiles,
And wipe the weeping eyes;
A heart at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathize.

3 I would not have the restless will That hurries to and fro,

Seeking for some great thing to do,

NEW CALABAR 7s.

Or secret thing to know:

I would be treated as a child,
And guided where I go.

4 I ask Thee for the daily strength,
To none that ask denied,

A mind to blend with outward life,
While keeping at Thy side;
Content to fill a little space,

If Thou be glorified.

5 And if some things I do not ask Among my blessings be,

I'd have my spirit filled the more

With grateful love to Thee;
More careful, not to serve Thee much,
But please Thee perfectly.

Anna Lætitia Waring 1850

J. D. FARRER

[employ.

601

CHRIST, of all my hopes the Ground, Christ, the Spring of all my joy, Still in Thee let me be found,

Still for Thee my powers employ. 2 Fountain of o'erflowing grace, Freely from Thy fulness give; Till I close my earthly race,

Be it "Christ for me to live."

3 When I touch the blesséd shore, Back the closing waves shall roll; Death's dark stream shall never more

Part from Thee my ravished soul. 4 Thus, O thus, an entrance give, To the land of cloudless sky! Having known it "Christ to live," Let me know it "Gain to die." Ralph Wardlaw 1817

AMSTERDAM 7s, 6s. D.

JESU PASTOR 8s, 75, 7.

J. H. WILCOX

604

JESUS wept! those tears are over,

But His heart is still the same; Kinsman, Friend, and Elder Brother, Is His everlasting Name.

Saviour, who can love like Thee,
Gracious One of Bethany?

2 When the pangs of trial seize me,
When the waves of sorrow roll,
I will lay my head on Jesus,
Pillow of the troubled soul.
Surely, none can feel like Thee,
Weeping One of Bethany!
ST. GODRIC 8s, 4.

3 Jesus wept! and still in glory,
He can mark each mourner's tear;
Living to retrace the story

Of the hearts He solaced here.

Lord, when I am called to die,
Let me think of Bethany.
4 Jesus wept! that tear of sorrow
Is a legacy of love,
Yesterday, to-day, to-morrow,
He the same doth ever prove.
Thou art all in all to me,
Living One of Bethany!

John Ross Macduff 1859

605

My God, my Father, while I stray
Far from my home, on life's rough way,
O teach me from my heart to say,
"Thy will be done!"

2 Though dark my path, and sad my lot,
Let me be still and murmur not,
Or breathe the prayer divinely taught,

"Thy will be done!"

3 If Thou shouldst call me to resign What most I prize,- it ne'er was mine: I only yield Thee what is Thine;

"Thy will be done!"

So let Thy life our pattern be,

And form our souls for Heaven.

2 Help us, through good report and ill, Our daily cross to bear;

Like Thee, to do our Father's will,
Our brethren's griefs to share.

3 If joy shall at Thy bidding fly,
And grief's dark day come on,
We in our turn would meekly cry,
Father, Thy will be done.

4 Should friends misjudge, or foes defame,
Or brethren faithless prove,
Then, like Thine own, be all our aim
To conquer them by love.

5 Kept peaceful in the midst of strife,
Forgiving and forgiven,

O may we lead the pilgrim's life,
And follow Thee to Heaven.

John Hampden Gurney 1838

Arr. C. STREATFIELD

be

Ob 3 224

608

How tender is Thy hand,
O Thou beloved Lord:
Afflictions come at Thy command,
And leave us at Thy word.

2 How gentle was the rod

That chastened us for sin:

How soon we found a smiling God,

Where deep distress had been.

3 A Father's hand we felt,

A Father's heart we knew;

With tears of penitence we knelt,
And found His word was true.
4 We told Him all our grief,
We thought of Jesus' love;
A sense of pardon brought relief,
And bade our pains remove.

5 Now we will bless the Lord,
And in His strength confide;
Forever be His name adored,
For there is none beside.

Thomas Hastings 1834

DEAR Refuge of my weary soul,

On Thee, when sorrows rise,

On Thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies.

2 To Thee I tell each rising grief,
For Thou alone canst heal;
Thy word can bring a sweet relief
For every pain I feel.

3 But O, when gloomy doubts prevail,
I fear to call Thee mine;

The springs of comfort seem to fail,

And all my hopes decline.

4 Yet, gracious God, where shall I flee? Thou art my only trust;

And still my soul would cleave to Thee, Though prostrate in the dust.

611

O THOU, whose filmed and failing eye,
Ere yet it closed in death,
Beheld Thy mother's agony,

The shameful cross beneath:

2 Remember them, like her, through whom The sword of grief is driven,

And O, to cheer their cheerless gloom,
Be Thy dear mercy given.

3 Let Thine own word of tenderness
Drop on them from above;

Its music shall the lone heart bless,
Its touch shall heal with love.

4 O Son of Mary, Son of God,
The way of mortal ill,

By Thy blest feet in triumph trod,

Our feet are treading still.

5 But not with strength like Thine, we go
This dark and dreadful way;

As Thou wert strengthened in Thy woe,
So strengthen us, we pray.

Alexander Ramsay Thompson 1869