Then shall my heart from earth be free, When it hath found repose in thee.
1 THOU hidden love of God, whose height,
Whose depth unfathomed no man knows,
I see from far thy beauteous light,
Inly I sigh for thy repose.
My heart is pained; nor can it be
At rest, till it find rest in thee.
2 Thy secret voice invites me still
The sweetness of thy yoke to prove:
And fain I would; but though my will
Seem fixed, yet wide my passions rove;
Yet hindrances strew all the way;
I aim at thee, yet from thee stray.
3 "Dia mercy all, that thou hast brought My mind to seek her peace in thee: Yet, while I seek, but find thee not, No peace my wandering soul shall see. Oh when shall all my wanderings end, And all my steps to thee-ward tend!
4 Is there a thing beneath the sun,
That strives with thee my heart to share;
Ah! tear it thence, and reign alone,
The Lord of every motion there.
1 Oн draw me, Father, after thee!
So shall I run and never tire;
With gracious words still comfort me;
Be thou my hope, my sole desire:
Free me from every weight; nor fear
Nor sin can come, if thou art here.
2 From all eternity, with love
Unchangeable thou hast me viewed;
Ere knew this beating heart to move,
Thy tender mercies me pursued:
Ever with me may they abide,
And close me in on every side!
8 In suffering be thy love my peace.
In weakness be thy love my power;
And when the storms of life shall cease,
My God, in that important hour.
In death as life be thou my guide,
And bear me thro' death's whelming tide.
1 PEACE, troubled soul. Thou need'st not fear;
Thy great Protector still is near:
He who has fed, will feed thee still;
Be calm, and sink into his will:
Who hears the ravens when they cry
Will all his children's needs supply.
2 Peace, doubting heart; distrust not God:
Though dark the valley, steep the way,
Still lean upon his staff and rod,
Still make his providence thy stay:
A sudden calm thy soul shall fill, —
'Tis God, who whispers, Peace; be stil
Living to God. MRS. COTTERILL. | 2 Brought safely by his hand thus far,
10 THOU who hast at thy command
The hearts of all men in thy hand!
Our wayward, erring hearts incline
To have no other will but thine.
2 Our wishes, our desires, control;
Mould every purpose of the soul;
O'er all may we victorious be
That stands between ourselves and thee.
Why wilt thou now give place to fear?
How canst thou want if he provide,
Or lose thy way with such a guide?
3 Did ever trouble yet befall,
And he refuse to hear thy call?
And has he not his promise passed,
That thou shalt overcome at last?
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