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English Melody.

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lost, the dear, Je • sus, Son of


ry, hear! Thou our

fee - ble flesh hast worn;

Thou our mortal griefs hast borne; Thou hast shed the human tear : Je-sus, Son of Ma-ry, hear!

2 을

920 “ Son of Mary."
WHEN our heads are bowed with woe;-
When our bitter tears o'erflow;-
When we mourn the lost, the dear,
Jesus, Son of Mary, hear!
Thou our feeble flesh hast worn;
Thou our mortal griefs hast borne;
Thou hast shed the human tear:
Jesus, Son of Mary, hear!
2 When the heart is sad within,
With the thought of all its sin;
When the spirit shrinks with fear,
Jesus, Son of Mary, hear!
Thou the shame, the grief, hast known;
Though the sins were not thine own,
Thou hast deigned their load to bear :
Jesus, Son of Mary, hear!
3 When our eyes grow dim in death ;
When we heave the parting breath ;
When our solemn doom is near,
Jesus, Son of Mary, hear!
Thou hast bowed the dying head ;
Thou the blood of life hast shed;
Thou hast filled a mortal bier :
Jesus, Son of Mary, hear!

921 Looking to Jesus.
WHEN along life's thorny road,
Faints the soul beneath the load,
By its cares and sins oppressed,
Finds on earth no peace or rest;
When the wily tempter 's near,
Filling us with doubt and fear:
Jesus, to thy feet we flee,
Jesus, we will look to thee.
2 Thou, our Saviour, from the throne
Listenest to thy people's moan;
Thou, the living Head, dost share
Every pang thy members bear;
Full of tenderness thou art,
Thou wilt heal the broken heart;
Full of power, thine arm shall quell
All the rage and might of hell.
3 Mighty to redeem and save,
Thou hast overcome the grave;
Thou the bars of death hast riven,
Opened wide the gates of heaven;
Soon in glory thou shalt come,
Taking thy poor pilgrims home;
Jesus, then we all shall be,

Lord, with thee.

Henry H. Milman.


James G. Deck.

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922 "Lead Thou Me On!"

923 Strength from the cord. LEAD, kindly Light! amid the encircling The word, O Lord, thy precious word gloom,

alone, Lead thou me on ;

Can lead me on ; The night is dark, and I am far from home, By this, until the darksome night be gone, Lead thou me on;

Lead thou me on! Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see Thy word is light, thy word is life and The distant scene; one step enough for me.

power; 2 I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou By it, oh, guide me in each trying hour! Shouldst lead me on;

2 Whate'er my path, led by the word, t 'is I loved to choose and see my path; but now

good, Lead thou me on;

Oh, lead me on! I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, Be my poor heart thy blesséd word's abode, Pride ruled my will. Remember not past Lead thou me on! years.

Thy Holy Spirit gives the light to see, 3 So long thy power has blessed me, sure And leads me by thy word, close following it still

thee. Will lead me on 3 Led by aught else, I tread a devious

way, O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till Oh, lead me on! The night is gone;

Speak, Lord, and help me ever to obey, And with the morn those angel faces smile Lead thou me on! Which I have loved long since, and lost My every step shall then be well defined, awhile!

And all I do according to thy mind.

John H. Newman. PORTLAND. 88, 4s.


Albert Midlane.

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cious are,

the way,


Unfaltering faith. LIGHT of the world! whose kind and 3 My blesséd Lord! what bliss to feel thee

near, gentle care

Faithful and true; Is joy and rest;

To trust in thee, without one doubt or fear, Whose counsels and commands so gra

Thy will to do;

And all the while to know that thou, our Wisest and best.

Friend, Shine on my path, dear Lord, and guard Art blessing us, and wilt bless to the end. Lest my poor heart, forgetting, go astray. 4 And then, oh, then! when sorrow's night

is o'er, 2 Lord of my life! my soul's most pure Life's daylight come,

Its hope and peace; [desire, And we are safe within heaven's golden Let not the faith thy loving words inspire

door, Falter, or cease;

At home! at home! But be to me, true Friend, my chief de- How full of glad rejoicing will we raise,

light, And safely guide, that every step be right. Saviour, to thee our everlasting praise.

H. Bateman.

925 8s, 4s. Tune-PORTLAND.
My God, my Father! while I stray
Far from my home, on life's rough way,
Oh, teach me from my heart to say,

“Thy will be done.”
2 What though in lonely grief I sigh
For friends beloved no longer nigh;
Submissive still would I reply,

“Thy will be done !" 3 If thou should'st call me to resign What most I prize,- it ne'er was mine; I only yield thee what was thine:

“Thy will be done !"

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When gathering clouds around I view, And days are dark, and friends are few, on him I lean, who, not in pain,

Ex • perienced ev-ery hu- man pain; He

sees my wants, al-lays my fears, and counts and treasures up my tears.

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926 “ Jesus Wept."

3 When sorrowing o'er some stone, I bend, WHEN gathering clouds around I view,

Which covers all that was a friend, And days are dark, and friends are few,

And from his voice, his hand, his smile, On him I lean, who, not in vain,

Divides me, for a little while, Experienced every human pain;


My Saviour sees the tears I shed, He sees my wants, allays my fears,

For Jesus wept o'er Lazarus dead. And counts and treasures up my tears.

4 And, oh, when I have safely past 2 If aught should tempt my soul to stray Through every conflict, but the last,From heavenly virtue's narrow way,

Still, still unchanging, watch beside To fly the good I would pursue,

My painful bed,- for thou hast died; Or do the sin I would not do,

Then point to realms of cloudless day, Still he, who felt temptation's power,

And wipe my latest tear away. Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.

Robert Grant.



Far from my heavenly home, Far from my Father's breast, Fainting, I cry, “Blest Spirit! come, And speed me to my rest.


927 Psalm 137.
Far from my heavenly home,

Far from my Father's breast,
Fainting, I cry, "Blest Spirit! come,

And speed me to my rest. 2 “Upon the willows long

My harp has silent hung ;
How should I sing a cheerful song,

Till thou inspire my tongue ?” 3 My spirit homeward turns,

And fain would thither flee;

My heart, O Zion! droops and yearns,

When I remember thee.
4 To thee, to thee I press-

A dark and toilsome road;
When shall I pass the wilderness,

And reach the saints' abode ?

5 God of my life! be near!

On thee my hopes I cast:
Oh! guide me through the desert here,
And bring me home at last.

Henry F. Lyte.

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1 Oh, let him whose sorrow No re- lief can find, Trust in God and borrow Ease for heart and mind.

929 Succor and Solace.
Oh, let him whose sorrow

No relief can find,
Trust in God and borrow

Ease for heart and mind. 2 Where the mourner weeping

Sheds the secret tear, God his watch is keeping,

Though none else is near. 3 God will never leave us,

All our wants he knows, Feels the pains that grieve us,

Sees our cares and woes.

4 When in grief we languish,

He will dry the tear, Who his children's anguish

Soothes with succor near. 5 All our woe and sadness,

In this world below, Balance not the gladness

We in heaven shall know,-6 When our gracious Saviour,

In the realms above Crowns us with his favor,

Fills us with his love.

Frances E. Cox, tr.

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