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L. M.
JESUS, the very thought is sweet ;
In that dear name all heart-joys meet;
But oh, than honey sweeter far,

The glimpses of His presence are.
2 No word is sung more sweet than this,

No name is heard more full of bliss,
No thought brings sweeter comfort nigh
Than Jesus, Son of God Most High.

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3 Jesus, the hope of souls forlorn,

How good to them for sin that mourn !
To them that seek Thee, oh how kind !
But what art Thou to them that find ?

4 No tongue of mortal can express,

No letters write the blessedness ;
Alone, who hath Thee in his heart
Knows, love of Jesus, what Thou art.

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5 O Jesus, King of wondrous might !

O Victor, glorious from the fight !
Sweetness that may not be expressed,
And altogether loveliest !

Hymnal Noted, Tr. J. M. Neal.


C. M.
Oh, gift of gifts ! oh, grace of faith!

My God, how can it be
That Thou, who hast discerning love,

Shouldst give that gift to me?
2 How many hearts thou mightst have had

More innocent than mine,
How many souls more worthy far

Of that sweet touch of thine!

3 Ah, grace, into unlikeliest hearts,

It is thy boast to come,
The glory of thy light to find

In darkest spots a home. 4 The crowd of cares, the weightiest cross,

Seem trifles less than light; Earth looks so little and so low

When faith shines full and bright ! 5 Oh, happy, happy that I am !

If thou canst be, O faith,
The treasure that thou art in life,
What wilt thou be in death ?

F. W. Faber. 491

C. M. 81. Thou art my hiding place, O Lord ;

On Thee I fix my trust,
Encouraged by Thy holy word,

A feeble child of dust.
I have no argument beside,

I urge no other plea ;
And 't is enough the Saviour died,

The Saviour died for me.
2 'Mid trials heavy to be borne,

When mortal strength is vain,
A heart with grief and anguish torn,

A body racked with pain ;
Ah, what could give the sufferer rest,

Bid every murmur flee,
But this, the witness in my breast

That Jesus died for me? 3 And when Thine awful voice commands

This body to decay,
And life, in its last lingering sands,

Is ebbing fast away ;

Then, though it be in accents weak,

And faint and tremblingly,
O give me strength in death to speak,
My Saviour died for me.”

T. Raffles. 492

C. M. 81.
MAJESTIC sweetness sits enthroned

Upon the Saviour's brow ;
His head with radiant glories crowned,

His lips with grace o'erflow.
No mortal can with Him compare,

Among the sons of men ;
Fairer is He than all the fair

That fill the heavenly train.
2 He saw me plunged in deep distress,

He flew to my relief ;
For me He bore the shameful cross,

And carried all my grief.
To Him I owe my life and breath,

And all the joys I have;
He makes me triumph over death

He saves me from the grave.
3 To heaven, the place of His abode,

He brings my weary feet;
Shows me the glories of my God,

And makes my joy complete.
Since from His bounty I receive

Such proofs of love divine,
Had I a thousand hearts to give,
Lord, they should all be Thine.

8. Stennett. 493

75,5s. 81. With Refrain. When the weary, seeking rest,

To Thy goodness flee;
When the heavy-laden cast

All their load on Thee ;

When the troubled, seeking peace,

On Thy name shall call ;
When the sinner, seeking life,

At Thy feet shall fall :
Hear then in love, O Lord, the cry

In heaven, Thy dwelling-place on high. 2 When the worldling, sick at heart,

Lifts his soul above ;
When the prodigal looks back

To his Father's love ;
When the proud man, from his pride,

Stoops to seek Thy face ;
When the burdened brings his guilt

To Thy throne of grace :
Hear then in love, O Lord, the cry

In heaven, Thy dwelling-place on high. 3 When the stranger asks a home,

All his toils to end ;
When the hungry craveth food,

And the poor a friend ;
When the sailor on the wave

Bows the fervent knee ;
When the soldier on the field

Lifts his heart to Thee :
Hear then in love, O Lord, the cry

In heaven, Thy dwelling-place on high. .4 When the child, with loving heart,

Youth, or maiden fair;
When the aged, trusting still,

Seek Thy face in prayer ;,
When the widow weeps to Thee,

Sad and lone and low;
When the orphan brings to Thee

All his orphan woe:
Hear then in love, O Lord, the cry
In heaven, Thy dwelling-place on high.

H. Bonar.


78, 6s. 81. I LAY my sins on Jesus,

The spotless Lamb of God;
He bears them all, and frees us

From the accursed load.
I bring my guilt to Jesus,

To wash my crimson stains
White in His blood most precious,

Till not a stain remains.

2 I lay my wants on Jesus ;

All fullness dwells in Him;
He heals all my diseases,

He doth my soul redeem :
I lay my griefs on Jesus,

My burdens and my cares ;
He from them all releases,

He all my sorrows shares.
3 I rest my soul on Jesus,

This weary soul of mine;
His right hand me embraces,

I on His breast recline :
I love the name of Jesus,

Emmanuel, Christ, the Lord ;
Like fragrance on the breezes,

His name abroad is poured.

4 I long to be like Jesus,

Meek, loving, lowly, mild ;
I long to be like Jesus,

The Father's holy child.
I long to be with Jesus

Amid the heavenly throng,
To sing with saints His praises,
To learn the angels' song.

H. Bonar.

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