537 O GOD of Bethel, by whose hand Who thro' this weary pilgrimage C. M. 2 Our vows, our prayers, we now present 3 Through each perplexing path of life 4 Oh, spread Thy sheltering wings around, Till all our wanderings cease, And at our Father's loved abode 5 Such blessings from Thy gracious hand And Thou shalt be our chosen God, 538 My times are in Thy hand; P. Doddridge. S. M. My God, I wish them there; My life, my friends, my soul I leave 2 My times are in Thy hand, Pleasing or painful, dark or bright, 3 My times are in Thy hand; 4 My times are in Thy hand, Those hands my cruel sins had pierced 5 My times are in Thy hand, I'll always trust in Thee; And, after death, at Thy right hand 539 W. F. Lloyd. C. M. THERE is a safe and secret place Reserved for all the heirs of grace; Oh, be that refuge mine! 2 The least and feeblest there may bide, Uninjured and unawed; While thousands fall on every side, 3 The angels watch him on his way, 4 He feeds in pastures large and fair 5 A hand almighty to defend, An honored life, a peaceful end, H. F. Lyte. 540 I WORSHIP Thee, sweet Will of God, And all Thy ways adore; To love Thee more and more. 2 When obstacles and trials seem And leave the rest to Thee. 3 I have no cares, O blessed Will, C. M. 4 He always wins who sides with God, 5 Ill that He blesses is our good, And unblest good is ill; And all is right that seems most wrong, 541 F. W. Faber. C. M. THE Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want; In pastures green; He leadeth me 2 My soul He doth restore again; 3 Yea, though I walk in death's dark vale, 4 My table Thou hast furnishèd My head Thou dost with oil anoint, 5 Goodness and mercy all my life And in God's house for evermore 542 F. Rous. THOU, O my Jesus, Thou didst me C. M. For me didst bear the nails, and spear, 2 And griefs and torments numberless, E'en death itself; and all for one 3 Then why, O blessèd Jesus Christ, Not for the hope of winning heaven, 4 Not with the hope of gaining aught, But as Thyself hast lovèd me, 5 E'en so I love Thee, and will love, F. Xavier. Tr. E. Caswall. 543 S. M. THE Lord my shepherd is; I shall be well supplied : Since he is mine and I am His, 2 He leads me to the place Where heavenly pasture grows; Where living waters gently pass, And full salvation flows. 3 If e'er I go astray, He doth my soul reclaim; And guides me, in His own right way, 4 While He affords His aid, I cannot yield to fear; Tho' I should walk thro' death's dark shade My Shepherd's with me there. 5 In spite of all my foes, Thou dost my table spread; My cup with blessings overflows, And joy exalts my head. 6 The bounties of Thy love Shall crown my following days; Nor from Thy house will I remove, Nor cease to speak Thy praise. 544 My spirit, on Thy care, Blest Saviour, I recline; I. Watts. Thou wilt not leave me to despair, For Thou art love divine. S. M. |