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2 When, harassed by ten thousand foes,
Our helplessness we feel,
The wounded spirit heal.
And threaten or allure,
A refuge strong and sure.
In faith, and hope, and love, And walk in holiness below
To holiness above.
Desire and envy cease,
In thee may we have peace.
155. C. M. H. WARE, JR.
Invoking God's Aid.
Would lift itself in prayer ;
And show thy presence there.
2 Each moment of my life renews
The mercies of my Lord;
To bear me on to God.
3 O, help me break the galling chains
This world has round me thrown;
Each darling sin disown.
4 O Father, kindle in my breast
A never-dying flame
In thine almighty name.
C. M. H. M. Williams.
1 WHILE thee I seek, protecting Power,
Be my vain wishes stilled; And may this consecrated hour
With better hopes be filled.
2 Thy love the powers of thought bestowed ;
To thee my thoughts would soar; Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed —
That mercy I adore !
Thy ruling hand I see !
Because conferred by thee.
4 In every joy that crowns my days,
In every pain I bear,
Or seek relief in prayer.
Thy love my thoughts shall fill : Resigned, when storms of sorrow lower,
My soul shall meet thy will.
6 My lifted eye, without a tear,
The gathering storm shall see;
157. S. M. EPISCOPAL Col.
The Soul seeking Rest.
On restless wing to roam ;
Has not for thee a home.
2 Behold the ark of God;
Behold the open door ;
And rove, my soul, no more.
3 There, safe thou shalt abide ;
There, sweet shall be thy rest,
With full salvation blest.
158. L. M. 61. Bowring.
Help thou my Unbelief. 1 IF, listening, as I listen still,
O God, to thine instructive word,
2 If, when most earnestly I pray
For light, for aid, for strength, from thee,
3 Help, and forgive! Heaven's alphabet
Hath many a word of mystery ;
159. 7 M. Furness.
Loving goodness, hating sin,
Finding here below no rest?
Can its hunger satisfy;
Through the outward universe.
This , unsleeping, secret sense,
In some hidden, untried good ?
Him it seeks from whom it came;
160. C. M. T. MOORE.
Returning fondly home,
2 But high she shoots through air and light,
Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way. 3 So grant me, Lord, from every snare
Of sinful passion free, Aloft, through faith’s serener air, 1 To urge my course to thee; — 4 No sin to cloud, no lure to stay
My soul, as home she springs, Thy sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy freedom on her wings.
161. L. M. 61. C. Wesley.
For the Influences of the Spirit.
Of love, and of a healthful mind -
Nor visit as a transient guest,
God a Refuge.
Let me to thy bosom fly,