2 With my burden I begin :-
Lord, remove this load of sin;
Let thy blood, for sinners spilt,
Set my conscience free from guilt.
3 Lord, I come to thee for rest,
Take possession of my breast;
There, thy sovereign right maintain,
And, without a rival, reign.
4 While I am a pilgrim here,
Let thy love my spirit cheer;
Be my Guide, my Guard, my Friend,
Lead me to my journey's end.
5 Show me what I have to do,
Every hour my strength renew;
Let me live a life of faith,
Let me die thy people's death.
I PRINCE of Peace, control my will;
Bid this struggling heart be still;
Bid my fears and doubtings cease;
Hush my spirit into peace.
2 Thou hast bought me with thy blood,
Opened wide the gate to God;
Peace I ask-but peace must be,
Lord, in being one with thee.
3 May thy will, not mine, be done;
May thy will and mine be one;
Chase these doubtings from my heart:
Now thy perfect peace impart.
4 Saviour, at thy feet I fall;
Thou my life, my Lord, my all!
Let thy happy servant be
One forevermore with thee!
Mary A. S. Barber, 1838
English Melody. Arr. by Lowell Mason, 1832.
1. Approach, my soul, the mercy-seat, Where Jesus answers prayer;
2 Thy promise is my only plea,
With this I venture nigh;
Thou callest burdened souls to thee,
And such, O Lord, am I.
3 Bowed down beneath a load of sin,
By Satan sorely prest,
By war without, and fears within,
I come to thee for rest.
4 Be thou my shield and hiding-place,
That, sheltered near thy side,
I may my fierce accuser face,
And tell him, thou hast died!
5 O wondrous love! to bleed and die,
To bear the cross and shame,
That guilty sinners, such as I,
Might plead thy gracious name!
John Newton. 1779.
I PRAYER is the soul's sincere desire, Uttered or unexpressed;
The motion of a hidden fire,
That trembles in the breast.
2 Prayer is the burden of a sigh;
The falling of a tear,
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.
3 Prayer is the simplest form of speech, That infant lips can try;
Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach
The Majesty on high.
4 Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air:
His watchword at the gates of death;
He enters heaven with prayer.
5 Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,
Returning from his ways;
While angels in their songs rejoice,
And cry, "Behold he prays!"
6 O thou, by whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way!
The path of prayer thyself hast trod;
Lord, teach us how to pray.
James Montgomery. 1819.
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