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O Tou! who hast at thy command,
The hearts of all men in thy hand!
Our wayward, erring hearts inciine
To have no other will but thine.
Our wishes, our desires, control;
Mould every purpose of the soul;
O'er all may we victorious be,
That stands between ourselves and Thee.
Twice bless'd will all our blessings be,
When we can look through them to Thee;
When each glad heart its tribute pays
Of love, and gratitude, and praise.
Still make us, when temptation's near,
As our worst foe, ourselves to fear:
And, each vain-glorious thought to quell,
Teach us how Peter vow'd and fell.
Yet may we, feeble, weak, and frail,
Against our mightiest foes prevail;
Thy word, our safety from alarm,
Our strength, thine everlasting arm.
And while we to thy glory live,
May we to Thee all glory give,
Until the joyful summons come,
That calls thy willing servants home.


(BISHOP HEBER.) Jesus, Thou Man of sorrows, born

To suffering here below,
To toil through poverty and scorn,

Through weakness, and through woe :

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If, gaily cloth'd, and proudly fed,

In careless ease we dwell;
Remind us of thy manger-bed,

And lowly cottage-cell.
If, press’d by penury severe,

In envious want we pine,
May conscience whisper in our ear,

A poorer lot was thine.
From all the viewless snares of sin,

Preserve us firm and free;
As Thou, like us, hast tempted teen,

May we rejoice with Thee.

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O FATHER! glorify thy name!
So pray'd, at woe's approach, my Lord ;
Disease corrodes this mortal frame :
O Father! be thy name adored.

Though life's unruffled days had flown,
Ere yet was past her vernal prime,
And sickness o'er my head hath strewn
The snows of age before their time ;
Why fear the path of grief to tread ?
Why, Father! shrink from thy decree,
If thus my longing soul be led
A safer, sborter way to Thee ?

On wings of faith o'er fogs of earth,
Thy servant, Father! teach to rise,
And view the blessing's native worth.
Cleard from affliction's dark disguise.

Yon clouds, a mass of sable shade
To mortals gazing from below,
By angels from above survey'd,
With universal sunshine glow.


My gracious Lord, I own thy right
To every service I can pay;
And call it my supreme delight
To hear thy dictates and obey.

What is my being but for Thee,
Its sure support, its noblest end?
Thy ever-smiling face to see,
And serve the cause of such a friends

I would not breathe for worldly joy,
Or to increase my worldly good;
Nor future days or powers employ
To spread a sounding name abroad.
'Tis to my Saviour I would live;
To Him who for my ransom died ;
Nor could untainted Eden give
Such bliss as blossoms at his side.

His work my hoary age shall bless
When youthful vigour is no more;
And my last hour of life confess
His love hath animating power.

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Ù Thou, from whom all goodness flows,

I lift my soul to Thee;
In all my surrows, conflicts, woes,

Good Lord, remember me.
When on my aching, burdeu'd heart

My sins lie heavily,
Thy pardon grant, new peace impart;
Good Lord, remember me.

When trials sore obstruct my way,

And ills I cannot flee,
O let my strength be as my day;
Good Lord, remember me.

If, for thy sake, upon my name,

Shame and reproach shall be,
All hail reproach, and welcome shame!

Good Lord, remember me.
When worn with pain, disease, and grief

This feeble body see ;
Grant patience, rest, and kind relief;

Good Lord, remember me.

When in the solemn hour of death,

I wait thy just decree,
Be this the prayer of my last breath,
Good Lord, remember me.

And when before thy throne I stand,

And lift my soul to Thee,
Then with the saints, at thy right bund,
Good Lord, remember me.


[C. Wesler.]

God of my life and all my powers,

The everlasting friend!
Shall life, so favour'd in its dawn,

Be fruitless in its end ?
To Thee, O Lord, my tender years

A trembling duty paid,
With glimpses of the mighty God

Delighted and afraid.
From parent's eye, and paths of men,

Thy touch I ran to meet;
It swell’d the hymn, and seal'd the prayer,

'Twas calm, and strange, and sweet! Oft when beneath the work of sin

Trembling and dark I stood,
And felt the edge of eager thought,

And felt the kindling blood,
Thy dew came down-my heart was thine,

It knew not doubt nor strife;
Cool now, and peaceful as the grave,

And strong to second life.
Full of myself I oft forsook

The way, the truth, and Thee,
For sanguine hope, or sensual gust,

Or earth-born sophistry.
The folly thrived, and came in sight

Too gross for life to bear;
I smote the breast for man too base,

I smote and God was there!
Still will I hope for voice and strength

To glorify thy name;
Though I must die to all that's mine,

And suffer all my shame.

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