4 The lily must decay; The rose that blooms beneath the hill And soon, too soon, the wintry hour Will shake the soul with sorrow's power, 5 O Thou, whose infant feet were found 6 Dependent on Thy bounteous breath, In childhood, manhood, age, and death, To keep us still Thine own. 401 Bp. Reginald Heber (1783-1826), 1812. I SEE, Israel's gentle Shepherd stands, 2 "Permit them to approach," He cries, "Nor scorn their humble name; For 't was to bless such souls as these, The Lord of angels came." 3 We bring them, Lord, in thankful hands, And yield them up to Thee; Joyful that we ourselves are Thine, I WITNESS, ye men and angels, now, 2 That long as life itself shall last, 3 We trust not in our native strength, That, with returning wants, the Lord 4 O guide our doubtful feet aright, And, while we turn our vows to prayers, Turn Thou our prayers to praise. Rev. Benjamin Beddome (1717-1795), 1787 |