516 Он, for a heart to praise my God, A heart that always feels Thy blood, 2 A heart resigned, submissive, meek, 3 A humble, lowly, contrite heart, Which neither life nor death can part 4 A heart in every thought renewed, And full of love divine, C. M. Perfect, and right, and pure, and good, 5 Thy nature, gracious Lord, impart ; Write Thy new name upon my heart, 517 C. Wesley. FAR from my heavenly home, 2 My spirit homeward turns, And fain would thither flee; S. M. My heart, O Zion, droops and yearns, 3 To thee, to thee I press, A dark and toilsome road; 4 God of my life, be near : On Thee my hopes I cast: Oh, guide me through the desert here, 518 JESUS, my strength, my hope, H. F. Lyte. S. M. With humble confidence look up, 2 Give me on Thee to wait, Till I can all things do,- 3 Give me a godly fear, A quick, discerning eye, That looks to Thee when sin is near, 4 A spirit still prepared, And armed with jealous care, 5 I rest upon Thy word, The promise is for me; 6 But let me still abide, Nor from my hope remove, C. Wesley. 519 My God, permit my tongue 2 My thirsty, fainting soul 3 In wakeful hours at night, I think how wise Thy counsels are, 4 Since Thou hast been my help, 5 The shadow of Thy wings I follow where my Father leads, S. M. I. Watts. 520 BLEST be Thy love, dear Lord, 2 O Thou, our souls' chief hope, S. M. Where'er we are, Thou canst protect, 3 Whether we sleep or wake, 4 Whether we live or die, Both we submit to Thee; In death we live, as well as life, 521 SWEET is Thy mercy, Lord! J. Austin. S. M. My soul, adoring, pleads Thy word, 2 My need, and Thy desires, Are all in Christ complete; 3 Where'er Thy name is blest, 4 Light Thou my weary way, 5 Thus shall the heavenly host J. S. B. Monsell. 522 STILL with Thee, O my God, I would desire to be, By day, by night; at home, abroad, 2 With Thee when dawn comes in S. M. 3 With Thee amid the crowd 4 With Thee when day is done, 5 With Thee when darkness brings Calm in the shadow of Thy wings, 6 With Thee, in Thee, by faith By day, by night, in life, in death, 523 Он, where shall rest be found, J. D. Burns. S. M. 'T were vain the ocean depths to sound, Or pierce to either pole. |