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2 In Thee I place my trust,

On Thee I calmly rest;
I know Thee good, I know Thee just,

And count Thy choice the best.
3 Whate'er events betide,

Thy will they all perform :
Safe in Thy breast my head I hide,

Nor fear the coming storm.
4 Let good or ill befall,

It must be good for me ;
Secure of having Thee in all,
Of having all in Thee.

H. F. Lyte. 545

S. M.
DEAR Lord and Master mine,

Thy happy servant see ;
My Conqueror, with what joy divine

Thy captive clings to Thee. 2 I would not walk alone,

But still with Thee, my God;
At every step my blindness own,

And ask of Thee the road. 3 The weakness I enjoy

That casts me on Thy breast;
The conflicts that Thy strength employ

Make me divinely blest.
4 Dear Lord and Master mine,

Still keep Thy servant true;
My Guardian and my Guide divine,

Bring, bring Thy pilgrim through. 5 My Conqueror and my King,

Still keep me in Thy train ;
And with Thee Thy glad captive bring,
When Thou return'st to reign.

T. H. Gill,

S. M.

546

To God the only wise,

Our Saviour and our King,
Let all the saints below the skies

Their humble praises bring.

2 'T is His almighty love,

His counsel and His care,
Preserves us safe from sin and death,

And every hurtful snare.

3 He will present our souls,

Unblemished and complete,
Before the glory of His face,

With joys divinely great.

4 Then all the chosen seed

Shall meet around the throne,
Shall bless the conduct of His grace,

And make His wonders known.

5 To our Redeemer God

Wisdom and power belong,
Immortal crowns of majesty,

And everlasting song.

1. Watts.

547

7s, 6s. 81, SOMETIMES a light surprises

The Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord, who rises

With healing in His wings ;
When comforts are declining,

He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining,

To cheer it after rain.

2 In holy contemplation,

We sweetly then pursue
The theme of God's salvation,

And find it ever new ;
Set free from present sorrow,

We cheerfully can say,
E'en let th' unknown to-morrow

Bring with it what it may.

3 It can bring with it nothing,

But He will bear us through ;
Who gives the lilies clothing,

Will clothe His people too ;
Beneath the spreading heavens,

No creature but is fed ;
And He who feeds the ravens,

Will give His children bread.
4 Though vine, nor fig-tree neither,

Their wonted fruit shall bear,
Though all the field should wither,

Nor flocks nor herds be there ;
Yet God the same abiding,

His praise shall tune my voice,
For, while in Him confiding,
I cannot but rejoice.

W. Cowper. 548

7s, 6s. 81. O JESUS, I have promised

To serve Thee to the end ;
Be Thou for ever near me,

My Master and my friend !
I shall not fear the battle

If Thou art by my side,
Nor wander from the pathway

If Thou wilt be my guide.

2 Oh, let me feel Thee near me !

The world is ever near ;
I see the sights that dazzle,

The tempting sounds I hear ;
My foes are ever near me,

Around me and within ;
But, Jesus, draw Thou nearer,

And shield my soul from sin.

3 Oh, let me hear Thee speaking

In accents clear and still, Above the storms of passion,

The murmurs of self-will.
Oh, speak to re-assure me,

To hasten or control !
Oh, speak, and make me listen,

Thou Guardian of my soul !

4 0 Jesus, Thou hast promised

To all who follow Thee,
That where Thou art in glory

There shall Thy servant be ;
And, Jesus, I have promised

To serve Thee to the end ;
Oh, give me grace to follow,

My Master and my friend !

5 Oh, let me see Thy foot-marks,

And in them plant my own !
My hope to follow duly

Is in Thy strength alone.
Oh, guide me, call me, draw me,

Uphold me to the end !
At last in heaven receive me,
My Saviour and my friend!

J. F. Bode.

549

78,6s. 81. O BROTHERS, lift your voices,

Triumphant songs to raise,
Till heav'n on high rejoices,

And earth is fill'd with praise.
Ten thousand hearts are bounding

With holy hopes and free;
The Gospel trump is sounding,

The trump of Jubilee.
2 O Christian brothers, glorious

Shall be the conflict's close :
The cross hath been victorious,

And shall be o'er its foes.
Faith is our battle-token :

Our leader all controls;
Our trophies, fetters broken ;

Our captives, ransomed souls.

3 Not unto us : Lord Jesus,

To Thee all praise be due !
Whose blood-bought mercy frees us,

Has freed our brethren too.
Not unto us : in glory

The angels catch the strain,
And cast their crowns before Thee

Exultingly again.

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4 Captain of our salvation,

Thy presence we adore :
Praise, glory, adoration

Be Thine for evermore!
Still on in conflict pressing

On Thee Thy people call,
Thee, King of kings confessing,
Thee, crowning Lord of all.

E. H. Bickersteth.

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