b'\nOassJB Yj> \xc2\xa3\xc2\xa3 \nBook- dfc \n\n\n\nPRESENTED BY \n\n\n\nft \n\n\n\n\nYMNS \n\n\n\nThe Higher Life \n\n\n\n\n(Bt Unto tt tenter \n\n\n\nTROY, N.Y. \n\nNIMS AND KNIGHT \n\n1887 \n\n\n\n\n\n\nCOPTRIGHl \n\nBy Niys and Kmghi \n\n\n\nGift \n\nRev. Edwin H. Bookrnyer \nApril 10. 1928 \n\n\n\n\n\n\n60 \n\nr- \n\n^7 \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. \n\n\n\nPERHAPS in nothing is the substantial unity \nof the Christian Church, with all her varying \nmodes of worship and symbols of belief, more sig- \nnificantly seen than in her " hymns and spiritual \nsongs." The theology of the intellect may be dis- \ncordant; but the theology of the heart is harmonious. \nHymns are the expressions of religious emotions, \ninspired by one eternal Spirit, in the contemplation \nof one divine Saviour, or in adoration of one heav- \nenly Father. In the Psalms, saints of all ages, of \nall conditions in life, in all the varied experiences \nof joy and sorrow, find a common and ample utter- \nance. Prayer and praise, desire and gratification, \nwant and fulness, as the personal consciousness of \nindividual men, never fail to find an adequate lan- \nguage for their expression in the inspired strains \nof the sweet singers of Israel. \n\n3 \n\n\n\n4 INTRODUCTION. \n\nIn like manner, in the "Hymns of the Ages," \xe2\x80\x94 \nthe rich inheritance which the consecrated psalmists \nin our Christian Israel have bestowed upon the \nChurch, \xe2\x80\x94 although the singers themselves differed \nwidely in the circumstances under which they sung, \nin their views of church order and government, and \neven in their utterances of the doctrines of their \ncommon gospel, still their collected psalmody forms \nbut one mighty organ of a celestial tone. Every \nseparate singer opens a different " stop " in the \nsublime instrument ; but all unite in a divine har- \nmony, forming together a glorious diapason, re- \nsounding down the ages. \n\nMr. Toplady and Mr. Wesley were widely sepa- \nrated from each other in their " systems " of grace ; \nbut the former expressed the experimental effect of \nhis view as he sang, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n" Rock of Ages, cleft for me, \nLet me hide myself in thee ; " \n\nand Mr. Wesley poured forth from his lyre, in the \nfulness of his heart, his confession of faith, in the \nmemorable words, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n" Jesus, lover of my soul, \nLet me to thy bosom fly;" \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. 5 \n\nand these two precious hymns, as any one can see \nand feel in their reading, are one. \n\nOur hymn-books have been greatly enriched in \nlater years, and have become the treasure-houses \nof the abundant offerings which gifted hearts have \nplaced upon Christ\'s altar. Many sweet hymns have \nbeen shortened to meet the requisitions of the "ser- \nvice of song ; " and many other hymns, old and new, \nwhile full of melody and rich in doctrine, are not- \nadapted to the public devotions of the sanctuary. \nBut Christian readers are not willing to permit any \nof these heavenly chords to cease their vibration. \nThey have another office to perform. They meet a \nwant of pious hearts, becoming the choice compan- \nions of hours of meditation and prayer. Volumes \ncontaining these unabridged hymns are multiplying. \nThey are, however, generally limited in their subjects. \nVery naturally, hymns of patience, consolation, and \nof heaven, form the staple of these compilations. \n\nThe present volume is devoted to the expression \nof religious desires and experiences in seeking for \nthe highest form of the divine life upon earth, and \nof the consequent activities and charities to which \na holy heart, pervaded with the spirit of Christ, will \nprompt the devout believer. \n\n\n\n6 INTRODUCTION. \n\nIt has been difficult to make a selection from the \nabundant materials near at hand. The writer has \nsought to secure as wide a confession as possible \nof the glorious faith of true believers in their one \ndivine Lord. \n\nHe has selected hymns both new and old, most \nof them worthy of their place for their lyrical excel- \nlence, and all of them for the truths which they \nembody. He has desired, while seeking to pre- \nserve the unity of the work, to present as large a \nvariety as possible in the measure and style of these \n" spiritual songs/\' \n\nHe trusts the pleasure and profit which has at- \ntended their selection will be enjoyed by the readers \nof these pages ; and that they will find in them an \naid to meet the inspired exhortation, to teach and \nadmonish " one another in psalms and hymns and \nspiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts \nto the Lord." \n\nB. K. P \nRiverside Parsonage, Randall\'s Island. \n\n\n\nThus, while I drop a tear or two \nOn the wild herd, a nobler few \nDare to stray upward, and pursue \n\nThe unbeaten way to God. \nThey soar beyond my laboring sight, \nAnd leave their loads of mortal care, \n\nBut not their love, below : \nOn heaven, their home, they fix their eyes, \n\nThe temple of their God ; \nWith morning incense up they rise \nSublime, and through the lower skies \n\nSpread the perfumes abroad. \n\nWatts. \n\n\n\nHYMNS \n\n\n\nTHE HIGHER LIFE, \n\n\n\n" Come up Hither." \n\nDOWNWARD through the still air falling, \nFrom the eternal heights above me, \nComes a voice so tender, calling, \n\n" Wilt thou not, who fearest, love me ? \nCome up hither ! \nI who died for thee \nAll thy strength will be : \nCome up hither ! " \n\nSeems the voice so far above me, \n\nYet so full of mercy ! Teach me, \nThou divine One, if thou love me, \nHow in blindness I may reach thee. \nAll this dreary \nPath which leadeth on \nMust I tread alone, \xe2\x80\x94 \nI, so weary ? \n\n\n\nIO HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n" Dreary, when the cross doth guide thee, \n\nAnd thou know\'st its wondrous meaning ? \nWeary, when I walk beside thee, \nThou upon my bosom leaning ? \nAlas ! with thee \nHave I dwelt so long, \nStill thou hast not known, \nHast not known me ! \n\n" Wouldst thou see me, thou who fearful \n\nFalterest in the march ? Uplifting \nTo the hills thine eyes, not tearful, \nGird thine armor on. The rifting \nClouds shall show thee \nWhere thy path doth lead : \nAh ! thy weeping hid \nIts fair glory ! \n\n" For the faithful and victorious, \n\nOut of blindness, wide the jDortal \nOpeneth into light how glorious ! \nOut of death to life immortal ! \nCome up hither ! \nFair in this sweet land \nThe many mansions stand : \nCome up hither ! " \n\nMrs. A. B C. Kbbne \n\n\n\nthe believer\'s consecration. ii \n\nThe Believer\'s Consecration. \n\nMY whole though broken heart, O Lord ! \nFrom henceforth shall be thine ; \nAnd here I do my vow record, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThis hand, these words, are mine; \nAll that I have, without reserve, \n\nI offer here to thee : \nThy will and honor all shall serve \nThat thou bestow\'dst on me. \n\nAll that exceptions save I lose ; \n\nAll that I lose I save : \nThe treasures of thy love I choose, \n\nAnd thou art all I crave. \nMy God, thou hast my heart and hand ; \n\nI all to thee resign : \nI\'ll ever to this covenant stand, \n\nThough flesh hereat repine. \n\nI know that thou wast willing first, \n\nAnd then drew my consent : \nHaving thus loved me at the worst, \n\nThou wilt not now repent. \nNow I have quit all self-pretence, \n\nTake charge of what\'s thine own : \nMy life, my health, and my defence, \n\nNow lie on thee alone. \n\n\n\n12 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nLord, it belongs not to my care \n\nWhether I die or live : \nTo love and serve thee is my share, \n\nAnd this thy grace must give. \nIf life be long, I will be glad, \n\nThat I may long obey ; \nIf short, yet why should I be sad, \n\nThat shall have the same pay ? \n\nChrist leads me through no darker rooms \n\nThan he went through before : \nHe that into God\'s kingdom comes \n\nMust enter by this door. \nCome, Lord, when grace hath made me meet \n\nThy blessed face to see ; \nFor if thy work on earth be sweet \n\nWhat will thy glory be ? \n\nThen I shall end my sad complaints \n\nAnd weary sinful days, \nAnd join with the triumphant saints \n\nThat sing Jehovah\'s praise. \nMy knowledge of that life is small ; \n\nThe eye of faith is dim : \nBut \'tis enough that Christ knows a!!, \n\nAnd I shall be with him. \n\nRichard Baxter. \n\n\n\nTHE SONG OF THE ANGELS A BO If E. 13 \n\n\n\nThe Song of the Angels above. \n\nEARTH has detained me prisoner long, \nAnd I\'m grown weary now : \nMy heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue, \nThere\'s nothing here for you. \n\nTired in my thoughts, I stretch me down, \nAnd upward glance mine eyes, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nUpward, my Father, to thy throne, \nAnd to my native skies. \n\nThere the dear Man, my Saviour, sits ; \n\nThe God, how bright he shines ! \nAnd scatters infinite delights \n\nOn all the happy minds. \n\nSeraphs with elevated strain \n\nCircle the throne around, \nAnd move and charm the starry plains \n\nWith an immortal sound. \n\nJesus, the Lord, their harps employs ; \n\nJesus, my love, they sing ; \nJesus, the name of both our joys, \n\nSounds sweet from every string. \n\n\n\nI^ S OF THE HIGHER Li: \n\nHark ! how beyond the narrow bounds \nOf time and space they run, \n\nin most majestic soun \nThe Godhead of the Son ! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nHow on the 7 \n\nThe darling of his soul, \nr.nite years before the c \nheavens began to roll. \n\nAnd now they sink the lofty tone, \n\nAnd gentler notes they play, \nAnd bring the eternal Godhead down \nday. \n\nOh sicred beauties of the Man ! \n\n(The God resides wit". \nHis flesh all pure without a stain, \n\nHis soul without a sin. \n\nThen how he looked, and how he sm \n\n: wondrous things he said : \nSweet cherut . .veil here a while, \n\nid tell what Jesus did. \n\nnis command the blind aw: \nAnd feel the gladsome ra \nHe bids the dumb attempt to speak \nThey try their tongues in pra : - \n\n\n\nTHE SONG OF THE ANGELS ABOVE. \n\nHe shed a thousand blessings round \nWhere\'er he turned his eye ; \n\nHe spoke, and at the sovereign sound \nThe hellish legions fly. \n\nThus, while with unambitious strife \n\nThe ethereal minstrels rove \nThrough all the labors of his life \n\nAnd wonders of his love, \n\nIn the full choir a broken string \nGroans with a strange surprise : \n\nThe rest in silence mourn their King, \nThat bleeds and loves and dies. \n\nSeraph and saint, with drooping wings, \nCease their harmonious breath : \n\nNo blooming trees nor bubbling springs \nWhile Jesus sleeps in death. \n\nThen all at once to living strains \n\nThey summon every chord, \nBreak up the tomb, and burst his chains, \n\nAnd show their rising Lord. \n\nAround the flaming army throngs \n\nTo guard him to the skies, \nWith loud hosannas on their tongues, \n\nAnd triumph in their eyes. \n\n\n\n15 \n\n\n\n1 6 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nIn awful state the conquering God \nAscends his shining throne, \n\nWhile tuneful angels sound abroad \nThe victories he has won. \n\nNow let me rise, and join their song. \n\nAnd be an angel too : \nMy heart, my hand, my ear. my tongue, \n\nHere\'s joyful work for you. \n\nI would begin the music here ; \n\nAnd so my soul should rise : \nOh for some heavenly notes to bear \n\nMy spirit to the skies \\ \n\nThere ye that love my Saviour sit ; \n\nThere I would fain have place. \nAmongst your thrones or at your feet, \n\nSo I might see his face. \n\n1 am confined to earth no more. \n\nBut mount in haste above, \nTo bless the God that I adore, \n\nAnd sing the Man I love. \n\nIsaac Watts \n\n\n\nlooking to the cross. \n\nLooking to the Cross. \n\nIN weariness and pain, \nBy griefs and sins opprest, \nI turn me to my Rest again, \nMy soul\'s eternal Rest, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe Lamb that died for me, \nAnd still my load doth bear : \nTo Jesus\' streaming wounds I flee, \nAnd find my quiet there. \n\nJesus, was ever grief, \n\nWas ever love, like thine ? \nThy sorrow, Lord, is my relief; \n\nThy life hath ransomed mine. \n\nThe Crucified appears ! \n\nI see the dying God ! \nOh, might I pour my ceaseless tears, \n\nAnd mix them with thy blood ! \n\nMy sorrows I forget \n\nIn view of Calvary : \nI fall, and kiss thy bleeding feet, \n\nAnd pant to share with thee. \n\nOh, were I offered up \n\nUpon thy sacrifice ! \nWho would not drink the sacred cup, \n\nAnd die when Jesus dies ? \n\n\n\n17 \n\n\n\n1 8 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nThou seest my heart\'s desire : \nI would thy cross partake ; \n\nI long to be baptized with fire, \nAnd die for thy dear sake ; \nI long to rise with thee, \nAnd soar to things above, \n\nAnd spend a blest eternity \nIn praise of dying love. \n\nCharles Wesley. \n\n\n\nToiling all the Night. \n\n"HT^HE livelong night we\'ve toiled in vain ; \n\n-*\xe2\x80\xa2 But at thy gracious word \nI will let down the net again : \n\nDo thou thy will, O Lord ! " \n\nSo spake the weary fisher, spent \n\nWith bootless, darkling toil, \nYet on his Master\'s bidding bent \n\nFor love, and not for spoil. \n\nSo, day by day, and week by week, \n\nIn sad and weary thought, \nThey muse whom God hath set to seek \n\nThe souls his Christ hath bought. \n\n\n\nTOILING ALL THE NIGHT. \n\nFor not upon a tranquil lake \n\nOur pleasant task we ply, \nWhere all along our glistening wake \n\nThe softest moonbeams lie ; \n\nWhere rippling wave and dashing oar \n\nOur midnight chant attend, \nOr whispering palm-leaves from the shore \n\nWith midnight silence blend. \n\nSweet thoughts of peace, ye may not last : \n\nToo soon some ruder sound \nCalls us from where ye soar so fast \n\nBack to our earthly round. \n\nFor wildest storms our ocean sweep : \n\nNo anchor but the Cross \nMight hold ; and oft the thankless deep \n\nTurns all our toil to loss. \n\nFull many a dreary, anxious hour \n\nWe watch our nets alone, \nIn drenching spray and driving shower, \n\nAnd hear the night-bird\'s moan. \n\nAt morn we look, and nought is there ; \n\nSad dawn of cheerless day ! \nWho, then, from pining and despair \n\nThe sickening heart can stay ? \n\n\n\n19 \n\n\n\n20 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nThere is a stay, and we are strong : \n\nOur Master is at hand \nTo cheer our solitary song, \n\nAnd guide us to the strand, \n\nIn his own time. But yet awhile \n\nOur bark at sea must ride ; \nCast after cast, by force or guile, \n\nAll waters must be tried ; \n\nBy blameless guile or gentle force. \n\nAs when he deigned to teach \n(The lone-star of our Christian course) \n\nUpon this sacred beach. \n\nShould e\'er thy wonder-working grace \n\nTriumph by our weak arm. \nLet not our sinful fancy trace \n\nAught human in the charm. \n\nTo our own nets ne\'er bow we down. \n\nLest on the eternal shore ^ \nThe angels, while our draught they own, \n\nReject us evermore. \n\nOr if, for our unworthiness, \n\nToil, prayer, and watching fail, \n\nIn disappointment thou canst blesv \n\nSo love at heart prevail. \n\nJohn Kkulk. \n\n\n\ndivine adoption. 2 i \n\nDivine Adoption. \n\nHOW happy are the new-born race, \nPartakers of adopting grace ! \nHow pure the bliss they share ! \nHid from the world and all its eyes, \nWithin their heart the blessing lies, \nAnd conscience feels it there. \n\nThe moment we believe, \'tis ours ; \nAnd if we love with all our powers \n\nThe God from whom it came, \nAnd if we serve with hearts sincere, \n\'Tis still discernible and clear, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nAn undisputed claim. \n\nBut, ah ! if foul and wilful sin \nStain and dishonor us within, \n\nFarewell the joy we knew ! \nAgain the slaves of Nature\'s sway, \nIn labyrinths of our own we stray, \n\nWithout a guide or clew. \n\nThe chaste and pure, who fear to grieve \nThe gracious Spirit they receive, \n\nHis work distinctly trace, \nAnd, strong in undissembling love, \nBoldly assert and clearly prove \n\nTheir hearts his dwelling-place. \n\n\n\n2 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nO Messenger :\xe2\x96\xa0: dear delight, \n\nse voice dispels the deepest night, \n\nSweet peace-proclaiming Dove \nWith thee at hand to soothe our pains, \nNo -wish unsatisfied remains, \n\nNo task but that of love. \n\nT:s love unites what sin divides ; \nThe centre where all bliss resides ; \nTo which the soul once brought. \nReclining on the first great Cav \nFrom his abounding sweetness dra \nace passing human thought. \n\nSorrow foregoes its nature there ; \nlife assumes a tranquil air. \n\n: ?:ed :\xe2\x96\xa0: its - : rs : \nThere sovereign goodness soothes the breast. \nTill then incapable of rest, \nIn sacred, sure repose. \n\nIf An AMU G\'JYQX. \n\n\n\nThe Method. \n\nPOOR heart, lament; \nFor since thy God refuseth still, \nThere is some rub. some discontent, \nWhich cools his will. \n\n\n\nTHE METHOD. 23 \n\nThy Father could \nQuickly effect what thou dost move ; \nFor he is power : and sure he would ; \n\nFor he is love. \n\nGo search this thing, \nTumble thy breast, and turn thy book : \nIf thou hadst lost a glove or ring, \n\nWouldst thou not look ? \n\nWhat do I see \nWritten above there ? Yesterday \nI did behave me carelessly \n\nWhen I did pray. \n\nAnd should God\'s ear \nTo such indifferents chained be, \nWho do not their own motions hear ? \n\nIs God less free ? \n\nBut stay ! what\'s there ? \nLate, when I would have something done, \nI had a motion to forbear, \n\nYet I went on. \n\nAnd should God\'s ear, \nWhich needs not man, be tied to those \nWho hear not him, but quickly hear \n\nHis utter foes ? \n\n\n\n24 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nThen once more pray ; \nDown with thy knees, up with thy voice ; \nSeek pardon first, and God will say, \n\n" Glad heart, rejoice." \n\nGeorge Herbert. \n\n\n\nPrisoners of Hope. \n\nPRISONERS of hope, lift up your heads ; \nThe day of liberty draws near : \nJesus, who on the Serpent treads, \n\nShall soon in your behalf appear. \nThe Lord will to his temple come : \nPrepare your hearts to make him room. \n\nYe all shall find, whom in his word \n\nHimself hath caused to put your trust, \n\nThe Father of our dying Lord \nIs ever to his promise just ; \n\nFaithful, if we our sins confess, \n\nTo cleanse from all unrighteousness. \n\nYes, Lord, we must believe thee kind ; \n\nThou never canst unfaithful prove : \nSurely we shall thy mercy find ; \n\nWho ask shall all receive thy love. \n\n\n\nPRISONERS OF HOPE. 2$ \n\nNor canst thou it to me deny : \nI ask, the chief of sinners I. \n\nO ye of fearful hearts ! be strong ; \n\nYour downcast eyes and hands lift up ; \nYe shall not be forgotten long : \n\nHope to the end ; in Jesus hope : \nTell him ye wait his grace to prove; \nAnd cannot fail, if God is love. \n\nPrisoners of hope, be strong, be bold ; \n\nCast off your doubts ; disdain to fear ; \nDare to believe ; on Christ lay hold ; \n\nWrestle with Christ in mighty prayer ; \nTell him, " We will not let thee go \nTill we thy name, thy nature, know." \n\nHast thou not died to purge our sin, \nAnd risen thy death for us to plead ; \n\nTo write thy law of love within \n\nOur hearts, and make us free indeed ? \n\nThat we our Eden might regain \n\nThou diedst, and couldst not die in vain. \n\nLord, we believe, and wait the hour \nWhich all thy great salvation brings : \n\nThe Spirit of love and health and power \nShall come, and make us priests and kings : \n\n\n\n2 6 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nThou wilt perform thy faithful word, \xe2\x80\x94 \n" The servant shall be as his Lord." \n\nThe promise stands forever sure, \nAnd we shall in thine image shine, \n\nPartakers of a nature pure, \nHoly, angelical, divine ; \n\nIn spirit joined to thee, the Son, \n\nAs thou art with thy Father one. \n\nFaithful and true, we now receive \nThe promise ratified by thee : \n\nTo thee the when and how we leave, \nIn time and in eternity ; \n\nWe only hang upon thy word, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n"The servant shall be as his Lord." \n\nCharles Wesley. \n\n\n\nPeace. \n\nSWEET Peace, where dost thou dwell ? \nhumbly crave, \n\nLet me once know. \nI sought thee in a secret cave, \nAnd asked if Peace were there. \n\\ hollow wind did seem to answer, " No : \nGo seek elsewhere." \n\n\n\nPEACE. 27 \n\nI did, and, going, did a rainbow note : \n" Surely," thought I, \n"This is the lace of Peace\'s coat; \nI will search out the matter : " \nBut, while I looked, the clouds immediately \nDid break and scatter. \n\nThen went I to a garden, and did spy \nA gallant flower, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe crown imperial. " Sure," said I, \n" Peace at the root must dwell ; " \nBut, when I digged, I saw a woim devour \nWhat showed so well. \n\nAt length I met a reverend good old man, \nWhom when for Peace \nI did demand, he thus began : \n" There was a Prince of old \nAt Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase \nOf flock and fold. \n\n" He sweetly lived : yet sweetness did not save \nHis life from foes ; \nBut, after death, out of his grave \n\nThere sprang twelve stalks of wheat ; \nWhich many, wondering at, got some of those \nTo plant and set. \n\n\n\n28 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nu It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse \nThrough all the earth ; \nFor they that taste it do rehearse \nThat virtues lie therein, \xe2\x80\x94 \nA secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth \nBy flight of sin. \n\n" Take of this grain, which in my garden grows, \nAnd grows for you ; \nMake bread of it, and then repose ; \nAnd Peace, which everywhere \nWith so much earnestness you do pursue, \nIs only there." \n\nGeorge Herbert. \n\n\n\nThe Indwelling Spirit. \n\nGRACIOUS Spirit, dwell with me : \nI myself would gracious be, \nAnd with words that help and heal \nWould thy life in mine reveal, \nAnd with actions bold and meek \nWould for Christ, my Saviour, speak. \n\nTruthful Spirit, dwell with me : \nI myself would truthful be, \n\n\n\nTHE INDWELLING SPIRIT. \n\nAnd with wisdom kind and clear \nLet thy life in mine appear, \nAnd with actions brotherly \nSpeak my Lord\'s sincerity. \n\nTender Spirit, dwell with me : \nI myself would tender be ; \nShut my heart up like a flower \nAt temptation\'s darksome hour ; \nOpen it when shines the sun, \nAnd his love by fragrance own. \n\n\n\nSilent Spirit, dwell with me : \n\nI myself would quiet be, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nQuiet as the growing blade \n\nWhich through earth its way has made \n\nSilently like morning light, \n\nPutting mists and chills to flight. \n\nMighty Spirit, dwell with me : \nI myself would mighty be, \xe2\x80\x94 \nMighty, so as to prevail \nWhere unaided man must fail ; \nEver, by a mighty hope, \nPressing on and bearing up. \n\nHoly Spirit, dwell with me : \nI myself would holy be ; \n\n\n\n29 \n\n\n\n3o \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nSeparate from sin, I would \nChoose and cherish all things good, \nAnd, whatever I can be, \nGive to Him who gave me thee. \n\nThomas Toke Lynch. \n\n\n\nI am His, and He is Mine. \n\nLONG did I toil, and knew no earthly rest ; \nFar did I rove, and found no certain home : \nAt last I sought them in His sheltering breast \n\nWho opes His arms, and bids the weary come : \nWith Him I found a home, a rest divine ; \nAnd I since then am His, and He is mine. \n\nYes, He is mine ; and nought of earthly things, \nNot all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or \npower, \nThe fame of heroes, or the pomp of kings, \n\nCould tempt me to forego His love an hour. \n" Go, worthless world," I cry, " with all that\'s \n\nthine ! \nGo ! I my Saviour\'s am, and he is mine." \n\nThe good I have is from his stores supplied ; \nThe ill is only what he deems the best : \n\n\n\nI AM HIS, AND HE IS MINE. ?i \n\nHe for my friend, I\'m rich with nought beside ; \nAnd poor without him, though of all pos- \nsessed. \nChanges may come ; I take or I resign ; \nContent while I am his, while he is mine. \n\nWhate\'er may change, in him no change is \nseen ; \n\nA glorious Sun, that wanes not nor declines : \nAbove the clouds and storms he walks serene, \n\nAnd sweetly on his people\'s darkness shines. \nAll may depart : I fret not, nor repine, \nWhile I my Saviour\'s am, while he is mine. \n\nHe stays me falling, lifts me up when down, \nReclaims me wandering, guards from every \nfoe ; \n\nPlants on my worthless brow the victor\'s crown, \nWhich, in return, before his feet I throw, \n\nGrieved that I cannot better grace his shrine, \n\nWho deigns to own me his, as he is mine. \n\nWhile here, alas ! I know but half his love, \nBut half discern him, and but half adore ; \n\nBut, when I meet him in the realms above, \nI hope to love him better, praise him more, \n\nAnd feel and tell, amid the choir divine, \n\nHow fully I am his, and he is mine. \n\nHenry Francis Lytk. \n\n\n\n32 \n\n\n\nhymns of the higher life. \n\nThe Soul\'s Surrender. \n\nOH hap::; yce \n\nOn thee, my Saviour and my God ! \nmay this \nAnd tell its raptures all abroad. \n\nOh happy bond that seals my vows \n\nTo Him who merits all my love ! \n\nLet cheer ;ms Gil his house \n\nWhile tc thai sacred shrine I move. \n\n: Tis done ! \xe2\x80\x94 the great trans :;one ! \n\nI am my . and he is mine : \n\nHe ;\'rew me. and I followed m, \n\nCharmed to confess the voice divine. \n\ny long-divided heart ; \nFixed on this blissful centre, res: : \nWith ashes who would grudge to part, \nWhen called on angels\' bread to feast ? \n\nthat heard the solemn \nThat vo . J shall daily hear. \n\nTill in life\'s latest hour I b \n\nAnd bless in death a bond sc d \n\nPHIU* EV>DDffl DGK. \n\n\n\nwhat then? \n\nWhat Then? \n\nAFTER the Christian\'s tears, \nAfter his fights and fears, \nAfter his weary cross, \xe2\x80\x94 \n" All things below but loss," \xe2\x80\x94 \nWhat then ? \n\nOh ! then, a holy calm, \nResting on Jesus\' arm ; \nOh ! then, a deeper love \nFor the pure home above. \n\nAfter this holy calm, \nThis rest on Jesus\' arm ; \nAfter this deepened love \nFor the pure home above, \xe2\x80\x94 \nWhat then ? \n\nOh ! then, a work for him, \nPerishing souls to win ; \nThen Jesus\' presence near, \nDeath\'s darkest hour to cheer. \n\nAnd when the work is done, \nWhen the last soul is won, \nWhen Jesus\' love and power \nHave cheered the dying hour. \nWhat then ? \n\n3 \n\n\n\n33 \n\n\n\n34 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nOh ! then, the crown is given ; \nOh ! then, the rest in heaven ; \nEndless life in endless day ; \nSin and sorrow passed away. \n\nE.J. \n\n\n\nBring the Children with You. \n\n" HRHE Master has come over Jordan," \n\nJ- Said Hannah, the mother, one day : \n" He is healing the people who throng him, \n\nWith a touch of his finger, they say. \nAnd now I shall carry the children, \n\nLittle Rachel and Samuel and John ; \nI shall carry the baby, Esther, \n\nFor the Lord to look upon." \n\nThe father looked at her kindly ; \n\nBut he shook his head, and smiled : \n" Now, who but a doting mother \n\nWould think of a thing so wild ? \nIf the children were tortured by demons, \n\nOr dying of fever, \'twere well ; \nOr had they the taint of the leper, \n\nLike many in Israel " \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\n\nBRING THE CHILDREN WITH YOU. 35 \n\n" Nay, do not hinder me, Nathan ; \n\nI feel such a burden of care : \nIf I carry it to the Master, \n\nPerhaps I shall leave it there. \nIf he lay his hands on the children, \n\nMy heart will be lighter, I know ; \nFor a blessing for ever and ever \n\nWill follow them as they go." \n\nSo, over the hills of Judah, \n\nAlong the vine-rows green, \nWith Esther asleep on her bosom, \n\nAnd Rachel her brothers between, \n\'Mong the people who hung on his teaching, \n\nOr waited his touch and his word, \nThrough the row of proud Pharisees hastening, \n\nShe pressed to the feet of the Lord. \n\n\n\n" Now, why shouldst thou hinder the Master,\'\' \n\nSaid Peter, " with children like these ? \nSeest not how, from morning till evening, \n\nHe teacheth, and healeth disease ? " \nThen Christ said, " Forbid not the children ; \n\nPermit them to come unto me : " \nAnd he took in his arms little Esther, \n\nAnd Rachel he set on his knee. \n\n\n\n36 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nAnd the heavy heart of the mother \n\nWas lifted all earth-care above, \nAs he laid his hands on the brothers, \n\nAnd blessed them with tenderest love ; \nAs he said of the babes in his bosom, \n\n" Of such is the kingdom of heaven ; " \nAnd strength for all duty and trial \n\nThat hour to her spirit was given. \n\nJulia Gill. \n\n\n\nMy Saviour. \n\nI AM not skilled to understand \nWhat God hath willed, what God hath \nplanned : \nI only know, at his right hand \n\nStands One who is my Saviour. \n\nI take God at his word and deed : \n" Christ died to save me," \xe2\x80\x94 this I read ; \nAnd in my heart I find a need \nOf him to be my Saviour. \n\nAnd had there been, in all this wide, \nSad world, no other soul beside, \nBut only mine, yet he had died \nThat he might be its Saviour. \n\n\n\nCOME UNTO ME. \n\n\n\n37 \n\n\n\nOne wounded spirit sore opprest, \nOne wearied soul that found no rest \nUntil it found it on the breast \n\nOf him that was its Saviour, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThen had he left his Father\'s throne, \nThe joy untold, the love unknown, \nAnd for that soul had given his own, \nThat he might be its Saviour. \n\nAnd oh that he fulfilled may see \nThe travail of his soul in me, \nAnd with his work contented be \nAs I with my dear Saviour ! \n\nYea, living, dying, let me bring \nMy strength, my solace, from this spring, \nThat he, who lives to be my King, \nOnce died to be my Saviour. \n\nDora Greenwell. \n\n\n\nCome unto Me. \n\nART thou weary ? Art thou languid ? \nArt thou sore distrest ? \n" Come to me," saith One, " and, coming, \nBe at rest." \n\n\n\n38 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nHath he marks to lead me to him, \n\nIf he be my Guide ? \n" In his feet and hands are wound-prints, \nAnd his side." \n\nIs there diadem as monarch \nThat his brow adorns ? \n" Yes. a crown in very surety, \nBut of thorns." \n\nIf I find him, if I follow, \n\nWhat his guerdon here ? \n" Many a sorrow, many a labor, \nMany a tear." \n\nIf I still hold closely to him, \n\nWhat hath he at last ? \n" Sorrow vanquished, labor ended, \nJordan passed." \n\nIf I ask him to receive me, \n\nWill he say me nay ? \n" Not till earth, and not till heaven, \nPass away." \n\nTending, following, keeping, struggling, \n\nIs he sure to bless ? \n"Angels, martyrs, prophets, pilgrims, \nAnswer, Yes." \n\nFrom St Stephen \n\n\n\nPRAYER. 3^ \n\nPrayer. \n\nOF what an easy, quick access, \nMy blessed Lord, art thou ! how suddenly \nMay our requests thine ear invade ! \nTo show that state dislikes not easiness, \nIf I but lift mine eyes, my suit is made : \nThou canst no more not hear than thou canst die. \n\nOf what supreme, almighty power \nIs thy great arm, which spans the east and west, \n\nAnd tacks the centre to the sphere ! \nBy it do all things live their measured hour : \nWe cannot ask the thing which is not there, \nBlaming the shallowness of our request. \n\nOf what unmeasurable love \nArt thou possessed, who, when thou couldst not \ndie, \n\nWert fain to take our flesh and curse, \nAnd for our sakes in person sin reprove, \nThat, by destroying that which tied thy purse, \nThou mightst make way for liberality ! \n\nSince, then, these three wait on thy throne, \xe2\x80\x94 \nEase, Power, and Love, \xe2\x80\x94 I value prayer so, \n\nThat were I to leave all but one, \nWealth, fame, endowments, virtues, all should go ; \n\n\n\n40 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nI ana dear Prayer would together dwell, \nAnd quickly gain, for each inch lost, an ell. \n\nGeorge Herbert. \n\n\n\nPentecost. \n\nWHEN God of old came down from heaven, \nIn power and wrath he came : \nBefore his feet the clouds were riven, \nHalf darkness and half flame. \n\nAround the trembling mountain\'s base \n\nThe prostrate people lay : \nA day of wrath, and not of grace ; \n\nA dim and dreadful day. \n\nBut, when he came the second time, \n\nHe came in power and love : \nSofter than gale at morning prime \n\nHovered his holy Dove. \n\nThe fires that rushed on Sinai down, \n\nIn sudden torrents dread, \nNow gently light, a glorious crown, \n\nOn every sainted head. \n\n\n\nPENTECOST. 4x \n\nLike arrows went those lightnings forth, \nWinged with the sinner\'s doom ; \n\nBut these like tongues, o\'er all the earth \nProclaiming life to come. \n\nAnd as on Israel\'s awe-struck ear \n\nThe voice exceeding loud, \nThe trump that angels quake to hear, \n\nThrilled from the deep, dark cloud ; \n\nSo, when the Spirit of our God \n\nCame down his flock to find, \nA voice from heaven was heard abroad, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nA rushing, mighty wind. \n\nNor doth the outward ear alone \n\nAt that high warning start : \nConscience gives back the appalling tone ; \n\n\'Tis echoed in the heart. \n\nIt fills the Church of God ; it fills \n\nThe sinful world around : \nOnly in stubborn hearts and wills \n\nNo place for it is found. \n\nTo other strains our souls are set : \n\nA giddy whirl of sin \nFills ear and brain, and will not let \n\nHeaven\'s harmonies come in. \n\n\n\n42 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nCome Lord, come Wisdom, Love, and Power, \n\nOpen our ears to hear ; \n\nLet us not miss the accepted hour ; \n\nSave, Lord, by love or fear. \n\nJohn Keble. \n\n\n\nCreate in Me a Clean Heart. \xe2\x80\x94 Ps. li. \n\nGOD of unfathomable love, \nWhose bowels of compassion move \nTowards Adam\'s helpless race : \nSee, at thy feet, a sinner see ; \nIn tender mercy look on me, \nAnd all my sins efface. \n\nOh ! let thy love to me o\'erflow, \nThy multitude of mercies show, \n\nAbundantly forgive ; \nRemove the insufferable load, \nBlot out my sins with sacred blood, \n\nAnd bid the sinner live. \n\nTake all the power of sin away, \nNor let in me its being stay ; \n\nMine inmost soul convert ; \nWash me from all the filth of sin : \nCome, Lord, and make me throughly clean ; \n\nCreate me pure in heart. \n\n\n\nCREATE IN ME A CLEAN HEART. \n\nFor all my sins I now confess, \nBewail my desperate wickedness, \n\nAnd sue to be forgiven : \nI have abused thy patient grace, \nI have provoked thee to thy face, \n\nAnd dared the wrath of Heaven. \n\nThee, only thee, have I defied : \nThough all thy wrath on me abide, \n\nAnd my damnation seal, \nThough into outer darkness thrust, \nI\'ll own the punishment is just, \n\nAnd clear my God in hell. \n\nCast in the mould of sin I am, \nCorrupt throughout my ruined frame, \n\nMy essence all unclean : \nMy total fall from God I mourn ; \nIn sin I was conceived and born ; \n\nWhate\'er I am is sin. \n\nBut thou requirest all our hearts, \nTruth rooted in the inward parts, \n\nUnspotted purity ; \nAnd, by thy grace, I humbly trust \nTo learn the wisdom of the just, \n\nIn secret taught by thee. \n\n\n\n43 \n\n\n\n44 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nSurely thou wilt thy grace impart, \nSprinkle the blood upon my heart \n\nWhich did for sinners flow, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe blood that purges every sin ; \nThe blood that soon shall wash me clean, \n\nAnd make me white as snow. \n\nThou wilt the mournful spirit cheer, \nAnd grant me once again to hear \n\nThy sweet forgiving voice ; \nThat all my bones and inmost soul, \nBroken by thee, by thee made whole, \n\nMay in thy strength rejoice. \n\nFrom my misdeeds avert thy face ; \n\nThe strength of sin, by pardoning grace, \n\nOf all my sin, remove : \nForgive, O Lord ! but change me too, \nAnd perfectly my soul renew \n\nBy sanctifying love. \n\nMy wretchedness to thee convert ; \nGive me a humble, contrite heart ; \n\nMy fallen soul restore ; \nLet me the life divine attain, \nThe image of my God regain, \n\nAnd never lose it more. \n\n\n\nCREA TE IN ME A CLEAN HEART. \n\nHave patience, till, by thee renewed, \nI live the sinless life of God. \n\nHere let thy Spirit stay : \nThough I have grieved the gentle Dove, \nAh ! do not quite withdraw thy love, \n\nOr take thy grace away. \n\nThe comfort of thy help restore ; \nAssist me now as heretofore ; \n\nOh ! lift thou up my head ; \nThe Spirit of thy power impart ; \nStablish and keep my faithful heart, \n\nAnd make me free indeed. \n\nThen shall I teach the world thy ways, \nThy mercy mild, thy pardoning grace, \n\nFor every sinner free ; \nTill sinners to thy grace submit, \nAnd fall at their Redeemer\'s feet, \n\nAnd weep and love like me. \n\nOh ! might I weep and love thee now, \nGod of my health, my Saviour thou ! \n\nThou only canst release \nMy soul from all iniquity : \nOh ! speak the word, and set me free, \n\nAnd bid me go in peace. \n\n\n\n45 \n\n\n\n46 HYMXS OF THE HIGHER L\'.FE. \n\nSo shall I sing the Saviour\'s 112 \nThy gift of righteousness procla \n\nThine all-redeeming grace : \nOpen my lips. Almighty Lord. \nThat I thy mercy may record. \n\nAnd glory in thy praise. \n\nX\'o creature-;: : :\'. lost thou desire. \nX\'o costly sacrifice require : \n\nThy pleasure is I \nThou only seekest me. not mine : \nThou wouldst that I should take of thine. \n\nShould all thy grace receive. \n\nA spirit wounded, sin-distrest, \n\nA broken heart that pants for res:. \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThis is the sacrif.ie \nWell pleasing in the sight of God : \nA sinner crushed beneath his load \n\nThen hear the contrite sinner\'s prayer, \nAnd every ruined soul repair ; \n\nRemember Zion\'s woe ; \nShow forth thy j ^race ; \n\nAnd for thyself vouchsafe to raise \n\nA glorious Church below. \n\n\n\nA GERMAN TRUST-SONG. \n\n\n\n47 \n\n\n\nWhen thou hast sealed thy people\'s peace, \nTheir sacrifice of righteousness, \n\nTheir gifts, thou wilt approve, \nTheir every thought and word and deed \nThat from a living faith proceed, \n\nAnd all are wrought in love. \n\nLaid on the altar of thy Son, \nPleasing to thee through Christ alone, \n\nThe dear peculiar race \nTheir grateful sacrifice shall bring, \nAnd hymn their Father and their King \n\nIn endless songs of praise. \n\nCharles Wfslry. \n\n\n\nA German Trust-Song. \n\nJUST as God leads me 1 would go ; \n1 would not ask to choose my way ; \nContent with what he will bestow, \n\nAssured he will not let me stray : \nSo as he leads, my path 1 make ; \nAnd step by step I gladly take, \nA child in him confiding. \n\n\n\n48 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nJust as God leads, I am content; \n\nI rest me calmly in his hands : \nThat which he has decreed and sent, \n\nThat which his will for me commands, \nI would that he should all fulfil, \nThat I should do his gracious will \n\nIn living or in dying. \n\nJust as God leads, I all resign ; \n\nI trust me to my Father\'s will : \nWhen reason\'s rays deceptive shine, \n\nHis counsel would I yet fulfil ; \nThat which his love ordained as right \nBefore he brought me to the light, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nMy all to him resigning. \n\nJust as God leads me, I abide \n\nIn faith, in hope, in suffering, true : \n\nHis strength is ever by my side ; \nCan aught my hold on him undo ? \n\nI hold me firm in patience, knowing \n\nThat God my life is still bestowing, \nThe best in kindness sending. \n\nJust as God leads, I onward go, \nOft amid thorns and briers keen : \n\nGod does not yet his guidance show ; \nBut, in the end, it shall be seen \n\n\n\nTHE WHITE RAIMENT. \n\nHow, by a loving Father\'s will, \nFaithful and true he leads me still, \nMy trembling footsteps guiding. \n\nLampertius. \n\n\n\nThe White Raiment. \n\nTHE babe, the bride, the quiet dead, \nClad in peculiar raiment all, \nYet each puts on the spotless white \nOf cradle, shroud, and bridal hall. \n\nThe babe, the bride, the quiet dead, \nEach, entering on an untried home, \n\nWears the one badge, the one fair hue, \nOf birth, of wedding, and of tomb. \n\nOf death and life, of mirth and grief, \nWe take it as the symbol true : \n\nIt suits the smile, it suits the sigh, \nThat raiment of the stainless hue. \n\nNot the rich rainbow\'s varied bloom, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThat diapason of the light, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nNot the soft sunset\'s silken glow, \nOr flush of gorgeous chrysolite ; \n\n\n\n49 \n\n\n\n50 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nBut purity of perfect light, \n\nIts native, undivided ray, \nAll that is best of moon and sun, \n\nThe purest of the dawn of day. \n\nO cradle of our youngest age, \n\nAdorned with white, how fair art thou ! \n\nO robe of infancy, how bright, \n\nLike light upon the moorland snow ! \n\nO bridal hall and bridal robe, \n\nHow silver-bright your jewelled gleam, \nLike sunrise on the gentle face \n\nOf some translucent mountain stream ! \n\nO shroud of death, so soft and pure, \nLike starlight upon marble fair ! \n\nAh ! surely it is life, not death, \nThat in still beauty sleepeth there. \n\nMine be a robe more spotless still, \nWith lustre bright that cannot fade, \n\nPurer and whiter than the robe \nOf babe or bride or quiet dead. \n\nv Mine be the raiment given of God, \n\nWrought of fine linen, clean and white, \nFit for the eye of God to see, \nMeet for his home of holy light. \n\nHORATIUS BONAR. \n\n\n\nWORKING WITH THEE, \n\n\n\n5* \n\n\n\nWorking with Thee. \n\nWORKING, O Christ! with thee, \nWorking with thee ; \nUnworthy, sinful, weak, \n\nAlthough we be : \nOur all to thee we give, \nFor thee alone would live, \nAnd by thy grace achieve, \nWorking with thee. \n\nAlong the city\'s waste, \n\nWorking with thee, \nOur eager footsteps haste, \n\nLike thee to be : \nThe poor we gather in, \nThe outcasts raise from sin, \nAnd labor souls to win, \n\nWorking with thee. \n\nThe little ones we greet, \n\nWorking with thee ; \nAnd oft thy words repeat, \n\n" Come unto me : " \nFrom sorrow, want, and gloom. \nWe bid them welcome home \nBeneath our sheltering dome, \n\nWorking with thee. \n\n\n\n52 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE \n\nSaviour, we weary not, \n\nWorking with thee : \nAs hard as thine our lot \n\nCan never be. \nOur joy and comfort this, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThy grace sufficient is : \nThis changes toil to bliss, \n\nWorking with thee. \n\nSo let us labor on, \n\nWorking with thee, \nTill earth to thee is won, \n\nFrom sin set free ; \nTill men, from shore to shore, \nReceive thee and adore, \nAnd join us evermore, \n\nWorking with thee. \n\nAnniv. Female Guardian Society. \n\n\n\nThe Friend. \n\nCOMF from the dimness of the past, \nCome from the mystery round thee cast, \nOh ! come, and let my sad eyes see \nThe One who truly loveth me. \n\n\n\nTHE FRIEND. \n\n\n\n53 \n\n\n\nFor thou hast known all human fears ; \nThine eyes grew dim with pitying tears ; \nThou bore alone thy heavy cross ; \nThou felt within all human loss. \n\nSo enter in this silent room. \nAnd lift for me its veiling gloom : \nThou feelest all its fearful cost ; \nBe more to me than treasure lost. \n\nLow kneeling at thy feet, O Christ ! \nThe heart that never was sufficed \nWaiteth to have its aching stilled, \nWaiteth to have its measure filled. \n\nAll human need and fear above, \nWhat is the measure of thy love ? \nBy all thy passion, all thy pain, \nThou\'lt wash me pure of earthly stain. \n\nWhen life\'s gay music says, " Rejoice," \nI listen still to hear thy voice ; \nI strive temptation\'s tide to stem ; \nI try to touch thy garment\'s hem. \n\nCan I so love thee, O my Lord ! \nThat every promise of thy word \nWill pour out frankincense and balm \nUntil the soul grows healed and calm ? \n\n\n\n54 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nWhen all the pageant of my prime \nHas paled, and passed to autumn-time ; \nWhen I shall follow all alone \nThe beautiful procession flown ; \n\nWhen youth and love together fly \nThe faded forms of dreams gone by ; \nWhen I shall say at last, " At best. \nBut this remains, \xe2\x80\x94 the hope of rest ; " \n\nAs once to woman by the well, \nWith gentler words than words can tell, \nWilt take in thine the lonely hand ? \nWilt lead me to the living land \n\nThat fair beyond our seeking sight \nMust wait to make complete and right \nLife\'s far fulfilment, mocking sweet, \nThat lures us ever incomplete ? \n\nO tender-hearted Master ! see \nWhat love uplifts its cry to thee : \nLike thee, with joy it would have died, \nAnd for its own been crucified. \n\nThou feelest all its fearful cost ; \nBe more than all my treasure lost : \nOh ! come, and let my sad eyes see \nThe One who truly loveth me. \n\nMary Clemmer Ames \n\n\n\nNOTHING TO DO. \n\n\n\nNothing to do. \n\n\n\n55 \n\n\n\n" 1\\I 0TH1NG t0 do " in this world odours, \n-*- ^ Where weeds spring up with the fairest \nflowers, \nWhere smiles have only a fitful play, \nWhere hearts are breaking every day ! \n\n" Nothing to do," thou Christian soul, \nWrapping thee round in thy selfish stole ! \nOff with the garments of sloth and sin ! \nChrist, thy Lord, hath a kingdom to win. \n\n" Nothing to do ! " There are prayers to lay \nOn the altar of incense, day by day ; \nThere are foes to meet within and without ; \nThere is error to conquer, strong and stout. \n\n" Nothing to do ! " There are minds to teach \nThe simplest forms of Christian speech ; \nThere are hearts to lure, with loving wile, \nFrom the grimmest haunts of Sin\'s defile. \n\n" Nothing to do ! " There are lambs to feed, \nThe precious hope of the Church\'s need ; \nStrength to be borne to the weak and faint ; \nVigils to keep with the doubting saint. \n\n\n\n5 6 HYMXS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nu Nothing to do ! ;: and thy r said, \n\n\xe2\x80\xa2\xe2\x80\xa2 Follow thou me in the path I trea \nLord, lend thy help the journey thic \nLest, faint, we cry. \xe2\x80\xa2\xe2\x80\xa2 S 3 much to do ! " \n\nN. E \n\n\n\nMy Angel-Dress. \n\nHEAVENLY Father, I w< \nAngel-garm air : \n\nAngel-vesture, undented. \n\n: thou give unto thy child ? \n\nNot a :\' many hue?. \n\nSuch as earthly fathers choose : \nDiscord weaves the gaudy vest ; \nNot in such let me be drest. \n\nTake the raiment soiled a v. \nThat I wear with shame to-: \nGive my angel-robes to me, \nWhite with heaven\'s own purity \n\nx away my cloak of pri \nAnd the worthies- igs twould hide : \nClothe me in my angel-dress. \nBeautiful with holiness. \n\n\n\nMY ANGEL-DRESS. \n\nLet me wear the white robes here, \nEven on earth, my Father dear ; \nHolding fast thy hand, and so \nThrough the world unspotted go. \n\nPerfume every fold with love, \nHinting heaven where\'er I rove, \nAs an Indian vessel\'s sails \nWhisper of her costly bales. \n\nLet me now the white robes wear, \nThen I need no more prepare ; \nAll apparelled for my home \nWhensoe\'er thou callest, " Come." \n\nThus apparelled, I shall be \n\nAs a signal set for thee, \n\nThat the wretched, poor, and weak \n\nMay the same fair garments seek. \n\n" Buy of me," I hear thee say : \nI have nought wherewith to pay ; \nBut I give myself to thee ; \nClothed, adopted, I shall be. \n\nLucv Larcom. \n\n\n\n57 \n\n\n\n;s hym the higher life \n\nThe Offering. \n\n- QAVIOUR, is there any thing \n\n^ I have failed to bring I \nLies my offering at thy feet \nIncomplete : \n\n*\xe2\x80\xa2 Lord, bethink thee. I am poor ; \n\nSlender is my store ; \nYea, my best is nothing worth \nEven on earth. \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\xe2\x80\xa2\xe2\x80\xa2 Even to men : oh ! then, how small \n\nTo the Lord of all, \nWho, creating worlds ane \n\n\xe2\x80\xa2\xe2\x80\xa2 Sweeps them lightly from their place \n\nIn the fields of spire : \nCounts the universe as nought \nBut a thought ! \n\n*\xe2\x80\xa2 Vet. since thou hast deigned to ask. \n\nOh. he the task \n\n(Though the gift be poor) to bring \nEvery thi \n\n\n\nTHE OFFERING. \n\n" Every thing ? Alas, this fear ! \n\nI may yet appear \nHolding some dear bawble fast \nAt the last. \n\n" Saviour, is there any thing \n\nI have failed to bring ? \nLies my offering incomplete \nAt thy feet ? " \n\nAnswered he, "If thou hast brought, \n\nClothing every thought, \nLove to God, and love to man, \nAs men can ; \n\n" Charity for all who stray \n\nFrom the narrow way ; \nEager hands to draw them back, \n\nAnd point the track ; \n\n" Gifts according to thy store \n\nFor the needy poor ; \n\nIn my suffering ones dost see \n\nEven me ; \n\n"If thy tears are swift to flow \n\nFor thy brother\'s woe ; \nHaving strength, if thou dost seek \n\nTo raise the weak ; \n\n\n\n59 \n\n\n\n6o HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n" If thou dost my mercy show \n\nEven to thy foe ; \nGrant the pardon proffered thee \nFull and free ; \n\n" Yea, if thou thy will hast brought, \n\nCrossing mine in nought ; \n\nFaith that shall outlast thy breath, \n\nStrong in death ; \n\n" Matters not thy world\'s estate, \n\nBe it small or great : \nThis thy offering, thou dost bring \nEvery thing!" \n\n" Nay, my Lord, my Lord ! " I cried ; \n\n" I am sorely tried : \nNothing, nothing have I brought \nThat I ought ! \n\n"Cold my love to thee, Most High ; \n\nCold my charity ; \nIdle hands and heart of stone \nAre my own ; \n\n" Mine an unsubdued will ; \n\nFaith that gropeth still : \nYet, O God my Righteousness ! \nBless, oh ! bless. \n\n\n\nTHE OFFERING. 6l \n\n" This, at least, to thee I bring, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nMeek petitioning ; \nHumble penitence and pain : \nIs it vain ? \n\n" Strong desire to serve thee more \n\nThan I have before, \nAnd in thy suffering ones to see \n\nEven thee ! \n\n" Now, indeed, my tears do flow \n\nFor all others\' woe ; \nTasting grief that doth surpass \nAll, alas ! \n\n" Hear me, Lord of earth and sky ! \n\nAt thy feet I lie ; \nMy confessions all I bring, \xe2\x80\x94 \nEvery thing. \n\n" Pitying Lord, wilt thou despise \n\nThis my sacrifice ? \nTell me, Saviour, do I bring \n\nAny thing?" \n\nAnswered he, "At last, at last, \n\nIs thy pride o\'erpast ! \nLittle is thy best, indeed ; \nGreat thy need. \n\n\n\n62 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n" Yet, beloved of mv heart, \n\nI for thee did smart ; \nOn the cross, in thy dear stead, \nBowed my head ; \n\n" Through Death\'s sharpest, sorest throes \n\nI triumphant rose, \nEven that thou mightest be \nRaised with me. \n\n" Is my love for thee grown less, \n\nThat I should not bless, \nOr the lowliest sacrifice \nShould despise ? \n\n" Nay, but I am satisfied. \n\nHaving all beside, \nSince that erring heart of thine, \nOn my shrine, \n\n" Broken, contrite, suppliant lies, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nSweetest sacrifice ! \nIn that offering thou dost bring \nEvery thing ! " \n\nHarriet McEwen Kimball. \n\n\n\nlet us dra w near. 63 \n\nLet Us draw Near. \n\nWHY stand I lingering without, \nIn fear and weariness and doubt, \nWhen all is light within ? \n\nThou, the new and living Way, \n\nThe trembler\'s Guide, the sinner\'s Stay, \nMy High Priest, lead me in ! \n\n1 know the mercy-seat is there, \n\nOn which thou sitt\'st to answer prayer ; \n\nI know the blood is shed, \nThe everlasting covenant sealed, \nThe everlasting grace revealed, \n\nAnd life has reached the dead ! \n\nNot the mere paradise below ; \n\nThe heaven of heavens is opened now, \n\nAnd we its bliss regain : \nGuarded so long by fire and sword, \nThe gate stands wide, the way restored, \n\nThe veil is rent in twain ! \n\nWithout, the cloud and gloom appear ; \nThe peril and the storm are near ; \nThe foe is raging round : \n\n\n\n64 Hl\'MXS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nThen let me boldly enter in. \nThere end my danger, fear, and sin, \nAnd rest on holy ground. \n\nHORATIUS BOXAR. \n\n\n\nResignation to Christ. \n\nWHEN shall Thy love constrain, \nAnd force me to Thy breast ? \nWhen shall my soul return again \nTo her eternal rest ? \n\nAh ! what avails my strife, \nMy wandering to and fro ? \nThou hast the words of endless life : \nAh ! whither should I go ? \n\nThy condescending grace \nTo me did freely move : \nIt calls me still to seek Thy face. \nAnd stoops to ask my love. \n\nLord, at thy feet I fall ; \nI groan to be set free : \nI fain would now obey the call, \nAnd give up all for thee. \n\n\n\nRESIGNATION TO CHRIST. \n\nTo rescue me from woe \nThou didst with all things part ; \nDidst lead a suffering life below \nTo gain my worthless heart. \n\nMy worthless heart to gain, \nThe God of all that breathe \nWas found in fashion as a man, \nAnd died a cursed death. \n\nAnd can I yet delay \nMy little all to give ; \nTo tear my soul from earth away \nFor Jesus to receive ? \n\nNay, but I yield, I yield ; \nI can hold out no more : \nI sink, by dying love compelled, \nAnd own thee conqueror. \n\nThough late, I all forsake ; \nMy friends, my all, resign : \nGracious Redeemer, take, oh ! take, \nAnd seal me ever thine. \n\nCome and possess me whole, \nNor hence again remove ; \nSettle and fix my wavering soul \nWith all thy weight of love. \n\n\n\n65 \n\n\n\n66 HVMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nMy one desire be this, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThy only love to know ; \nTo seek and taste no other bliss, \nNo other good, below. \n\nMy Life, my Portion, thou ; \nThou all-sufficient art : \nMy Hope, my heavenly Treasure, now \nEnter, and keep my heart. \n\nCharles Wesley. \n\n\n\nThoughts of Christ. \n\nJESU, the very thought of thee \nWith sweetness fills the breast ; \nBut sweeter far thy face to see, \nAnd in thy presence rest. \n\nNo voice can sing, no heart can frame, \n\nNor can the memory find, \nA sweeter sound than Jesu\'s name, \n\nThe Saviour of mankind. \n\nO hope of every contrite heart ! \n\nO joy of all the meek ! \nTo those who fall how kind thou art ! \n\nHow good to those who seek ! \n\n\n\nA LITTLE BIRD I AM. 67 \n\nBut what to those who find ? Ah ! this \nNor tongue nor pen can show : \n\nThe love of Jesus, what it is, \nNone but his loved ones know. \n\nJesu, our only joy be thou, \n\nAs thou our prize wilt be ; \nIn thee be all our glory now, \n\nAnd through eternity. \n\nBernard of Fontaine. \n\n\n\nA \n\n\n\nA Little Bird I am. \n\nCOMPOSED IN PRISON. \n\nLITTLE bird I am, \n\n\n\nShut from the fields of air ; \nAnd in my cage I sit, and sing \n\nTo Him who placed me there ; \nWell pleased a prisoner to be, \nBecause, my God, it pleases thee. \n\nNought have I else to do : \nI sing the whole day long ; \nAnd He whom most I love to please \nDoth listen to my song : \n\n\n\n68 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nHe caught and bound my wandering wino \nBut still He bends to hear me sing. \n\nThou hast an ear to hear, \n\nA heart to love and bless ; \nAnd, though my notes were e\'er so rude, \n\nThou wouldst not hear the less ; \nBecause Thou knowest, as they fall, \nThat love, sweet love, inspires them all. \n\nMy cage confines me round ; \n\nAbroad I cannot fly : \nBut, though my wing is closely bound, \n\nMy heart\'s at liberty. \nMy prison-walls cannot control \nThe flight, the freedom, of the soul. \n\nOh ! it is good to soar \nThese bolts and bars above, \nTo Him whose purpose I adore, \n\nWhose providence I love ; \nAnd in Thy mighty will to find \nT\'he joy, the freedom, of the mind. \n\nMadame Guyon. \n\n\n\nforsaken, yet hoping. 69 \n\nForsaken, yet Hoping. \n\nHAPPY the hours, the golden days, \nWhen I could call my Jesus mine, \nAnd sit and view his smiling face, \nAnd melt in pleasures all divine. \n\nNear to my heart, within my arms, \nHe lay, till sin defiled my breast ; \n\nTill broken vows and earthly charms \nTired and provoked my heavenly Guest. \n\nAnd now he\'s gone, (oh mighty woe ! ) \nGone from my soul, and hides his love ! \n\nCurse on you, sins, that grieved him so, \xe2\x80\x94 \nYe sins that forced him to remove ! \n\nBreak, break, my heart ; complain, my tongue ; \n\nHither, my friends, your sorrows bring ; \nAngels, assist my doleful song, \n\nIf you have e\'er a mournful string. \n\nBut, ah ! your joys are ever high ; \n\nEver his lovely face you see ; \nWhile my poor spirits pant and die, \n\nAnd groan for thee, my God, \xe2\x80\x94 for thee. \n\n\n\n70 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nYet let my hope look through my tears, \nAnd spy afar his rolling throne : \n\nHis chariot, through the cleaving spheres, \nShall bring the bright Beloved down. \n\nSwift as a roe flies o\'er the hills, \n\nMy soul springs out to meet him high ; \n\nThen\'the fair Conqueror turns his wheels, \nAnd climbs the mansions of the sky. \n\nThere smiling joy forever reigns ; \n\nNo more the turtle leaves the dove : \nFarewell to jealousies and pains, \n\nAnd all the ills of absent love ! \n\nIsaac Watts. \n\n\n\nOur Master. \n\nIMMORTAL Love, forever full, \nForever flowing free, \nForever shared, forever whole, \nA never-ebbing sea ! \n\nOur outward lips confess the name \n\nAll other names above : \nLove only knoweth whence it came, \n\nAnd comprehendeth love. \n\n\n\nOUR MASTER. \n\n\n\n7* \n\n\n\nBlow, winds of God, awake, and blow \n\nThe mists of earth away ; \nShine out, O Light divine ! and show \n\nHow wide and far we stray. \n\nHush every lip, close every book, \nThe strife of tongues forbear : \n\nWhy forward reach, or backward look, \nFor love that clasps like air ? \n\nWe may not climb the heavenly steeps \nTo bring the Lord Christ down : \n\nIn vain we search the lowest deeps \nFor Him no depths can drown. \n\nNor holy bread, nor blood of grape, \n\nThe lineaments restore \nOf Him we know in outward shape \n\nAnd in the flesh no more. \n\nHe cometh not a King to reign ; \n\nThe worlds long hope is dim : \nThe weary centuries watch in vain \n\nThe clouds of heaven for him. \n\nDeath comes ; life goes ; the asking eye \n\nAnd ear are answerless ; \nThe grave is dumb ; the hollow sky \n\nIs sad with silentness. \n\n\n\nJ 2 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nThe letter fails, and systems fall, \n\nAnd every symbol wanes : \nThe Spirit over-brooding all, \n\nEternal Love, remains. \n\nAnd not for signs in heaven above \n\nOr earth below they look, \nWho know with John his smile of love, \n\nWith Peter his rebuke. \n\nIn joy of inward peace, or sense \n\nOf sorrow over sin, \nHe is his own best evidence : \n\nHis witness is within. \n\nNo fable old, nor mythic lore, \nNor dream of bards and seers, \n\nNo dead fact stranded on the shore \nOf the oblivious years. \n\nBut warm, sweet, tender, even yet \n\nA present help is he : \nAnd faith has still its Olivet ; \n\nAnd love, its Galilee. \n\nThe healing of his seamless dress \n\nIs by Qur beds of pain : \nWe touch him in life\'s throng and press, \n\nAnd we are whole again. \n\n\n\nOUR MASTER. \n\n\n\n73 \n\n\n\nThrough him the first fond prayers are said \n\nOur lips of childhood frame ; \nThe last low whispers of our dead \n\nAre burdened with his name. \n\nO Lord and Master of us all ! \n\nWhate\'er our name or sign, \nWe own thy sway, we hear thy call, \n\nWe test our lives by thine. \n\nThou judgest us ; thy purity \n\nDoth all our lusts condemn ; \nThe love that draws us nearer thee \n\nIs hot with wrath to them. \n\nOur thoughts lie open to thy sight ; \n\nAnd, naked to thy glance, \nOur secret sins are in the light \n\nOf thy pure countenance. \n\nThy healing pains ; a keen distress \n\nThy tender light shines in ; \nThy sweetness is the bitterness ; \n\nThy grace, the pang of sin. \n\nYet, weak and blinded though we be, \n\nThou dost our service own : \nWe bring our varying gifts to thee, \n\nAnd thou rejectest none. \n\n\n\n74 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nTo thee our full humanity, \n\nIts joys and pains, belong : \nThe wrong of man to man on thee \n\nInflicts a deeper wrong. \n\nWho hates, hates thee ; who loves, becomes \n\nTherein to thee allied : \nAll sweet accords of hearts and homes \n\nIn thee are multiplied. \n\nDeep strike thy roots, O heavenly Vine ! \n\nWithin our earthly sod, \nMost human and yet most divine, \n\nThe flower of man and God. \n\nO Love ! O Life ! \xe2\x80\x94 our faith and sight \n\nThy presence maketh one ; \nAs through transfigured clouds of white \n\nWe trace the noonday sun. \n\nSo. to our mortal eyes subdued, \nFlesh-veiled, but not concealed, \n\nWe know in thee the fatherhood \nAnd heart of God revealed. \n\nWe faintly hear, we dimly see, \n\nIn differing phrase we pray ; \nBut, dim or clear, we own in thee \n\nThe Light, the Truth, the Way. \n\n\n\nOUR MASTER. \n\nThe homage that we render thee \n\nIs still our Father\'s own : \nNor jealous claim or rivalry \n\nDivides the Cross and Throne. \n\nTo do thy will is more than praise, \nAs words are less than deeds ; \n\nAnd simple trust can find thy ways \nWe miss with chart of creeds. \n\nNo pride of self thy service hath, \n\nNo place for me and mine : \nOur human strength is weakness, death \n\nOur life, apart from thine. \n\nApart from thee, all gain is loss, \n\nAll labor vainly done : \nThe solemn shadow of thy cross \n\nIs better than the sun. \n\nAlone, O Love ineffable ! \n\nThy saving name is given : \nTo turn aside from thee is hell, \n\nTo walk with thee is heaven. \n\nHow vain, secure in all thou art, \n\nOur noisy championship ! \nThe sighing of the contrite heart \n\nIs more than flattering lip. \n\n\n\n75 \n\n\n\nj6 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nNot thine the bigot\'s partial plea, \n\nNor thine the zealot\'s ban : \nThou well canst spare a love of thee \n\nWhich ends in hate of man. \n\nOur Friend, our Brother, and our Lord, \n\nWhat may thy service be ? \nNor name, nor form, nor ritual word, \n\nBut simply following thee. \n\nWe bring no ghastly holocaust, \n\nWe pile no graven stone : \nHe serves thee best who loveth most \n\nHis brothers and thy own. \n\nThy litanies, sweet offices \n\nOf love and gratitude ; \nThy sacramental liturgies, \n\nThe joy of doing good. \n\nIn vain shall waves of incense drift \n\nThe vaulted nave around, \nIn vain the minster turret lift \n\nIts brazen weights of sound. \n\nThe heart must ring thy Christmas-bells, \n\nThy inward altars raise : \nIts faith and hope thy canticles ; \n\nAnd its obedience, praise. \n\nWhittier. \n\n\n\nTHE LOVE OF GOD. 7/ \n\n\n\nThe Love of God. \n\nBLEST be thy love, dear Lord, \nThat taught us this sweet way, - \nOnly to love thee for thyself, \nAnd for that love obey. \n\nO Thou, our soul\'s chief hope ! \nWe to thy mercy fly : \nWhere\'er we are, thou canst protect ; \nWhate\'er we need, supply. \n\nWhether we sleep or wake, \nTo thee we both resign : \nBy night we see as well as day, \nIf thy light on us shine. \n\nWhether we live or die, \nBoth we submit to thee : \nJa death we live, as well as life. \nif thine in death we be. \n\nF. AUSTIN. \n\n\n\n78 hymns of the higher life. \n\n\'\xe2\x80\xa2When thou hast shut thy Door, pray." \n\nLORD. I have shut my door, \xe2\x80\x94 \nShut out life\'s busy cares and fretting \nnoise : \nHere in this silence they intrude no more. \n\nSpeak thou, and heavenly joys \nShall till my heart with music sweet and calm, \xe2\x80\x94 \nA holy psalm. \n\nYes. I have shut my door \nEven on all the beauty of thine earth. \xe2\x80\x94 \nTo its blue ceiling from its emerald floor. \n\nFilled with spring\'s bloom and mirth : \nFrom these thy works I turn, thyself I seek, \nTo thee I speak. \n\nAnd I have shut my door \nOn earthly passion, \xe2\x80\x94 all its yearning love, \nIts tender friencsnips, all the priceless store \n\nOf human ties. Above \nAll these my heart aspires. O Heart divine ! \nStoop thou to mine. \n\nLord. I have shut my door ! \nCome thou and visit me : I am alone ! \n\n\n\nCHRIST 1.0 VED UNSEEN. \n\n\n\n79 \n\n\n\nCome, as when doors were shut thou cam\'st of \n\nyore, \n\nAnd visitedst thine own. \n\nMy Lord ! I kneel with reverent love and fear ; \n\nFor thou art here ! \n\nMary E. Atkinson. \n\n\n\nChrist loved Unseen. \n\nJESUS, these eyes have never seen \nThat radiant form of thine : \nThe veil of sense hangs dark between \nThy blessed face and mine. \n\nI see thee not, I hear thee not ; \n\nYet art thou oft with me ; \nAnd earth hath ne\'er so dear a spot \n\nAs where I meet with thee. \n\nLike some bright dream, that comes unsought \n\nWhen slumbers o\'er me roll, \nThine image ever fills my thought, \n\nAnd charms my ravished soul. \n\nYet though I have not seen, and still \n\nMust rest in faith alone, \nI love thee, dearest Lord, and will, \n\nUnseen, but not unknown. \n\n\n\nO HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nWhen death these mortal eyes shall seal, \nAnd still this throbbing heart, \n\nThe rending veil shall thee reveal, \nAll glorious as thou art. \n\nRay Palmer. \n\n\n\n"Abide in Me, and I in You." \n\nTHE SOUL\'S ANSWER. \n\nTHAT mystic word of thine, O sovereign \nLord! \nIs ail too pure, too high, too deep, for me : \nWeary of striving, and with longing faint, \nI breathe it back again in prayer to thee. \n\nAbide in me, I pray, and I in thee ; \n\nFrom this good hour, oh ! leave me never- \nmore : \nThen shall the discord cease, the wound be \nhealed, \nThe lifelong bleeding of the soul be o\'er. \n\nAbide in me ; o\'ershadow by thy love \n\nEach half-formed purpose and dark thought \nof sin ; - \n\nQuench, e\'er it rise, each selfish, low desire ; \nAnd keep my soul as thine, calm and divine. \n\n\n\n/ HAVE FOUND IT. 8l \n\nAs some rare perfume in a vase of clay \nPervades it with a fragrance not its own, \n\nSo, when thou dwellest in a mortal soul, \nAll heaven\'s own sweetness seems around \nthrown. \n\nAbide in me. There have been moments blest \nWhen I have heard thy voice and felt th \npower : \n\nThen evil lost its grasp ; and passion, hushed, \nOwned the divine enchantment of the hour. \n\nThese were but seasons beautiful and rare ; \n\nAbide in me, and they shall ever be: \nFulfil at once thy precept and my prayer ; \n\nCome and abide in me, and I in thee. \n\nHarriet Beecher Sto. \n\n\n\nI HAVE FOUND It. \n\nCOME, and rejoice with me : \nFor once my heart was poor ; \nAnd I have found a treasury * \n\nOf love, a boundless store. \n\nCome, and rejoice with me : \nI, who was sick at heart, \nHave met with One who knows my case, \nAnd knows the healing art. \n\n6 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nCome, and rejoice with me : \nFor I was wearied sore ; \nAnd I have found a mighty arm, \nWhich holds me evermore. \n\nCome, and rejoice with me : \nMy feet so wide did roam ! \nAnd One has sought me from afar, \nAnd beareth me safe home. \n\nCome, and rejoice with me ; \nFor I have found a Friend \nWho knows my heart\'s most secret depths, \nYet loves me without end. \n\nI knew not of his love, \nAnd he had loved so long, \nWith love so faithful and so deep, \nSo tender and so strong ! \n\nAnd now I know it all, \nHave heard and know his voice, \nAnd hear it still from day to day : \nCan I enough rejoice ? \n\nMrs. Cuai;lss. \n\n\n\npencil-marks. 83 \n\nPencil-Marks in a Book of Devotion. \n\nSTRONG words are these: "O Lord! I \nseek but thee, \nNot thine. I ask not comfort, ask not rest : \nGive what and how and when thou wilt to me, \n1 bless thee ; take all back, and be thou \nblest." \n\nSweet words are these : " O Lord ! it is thy love, \nAnd not thy gifts, I seek ; yet am as one \n\nThat loveth so, I prize the least above \nAll other worth or sweetness under sun." \n\nAnd all these lines are underscored, and here \nAnd there a tear hath been and left its stain,\xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe only record, haply, of a tear \n\nLong wiped from eyes no more to weep again \n\nAnd, as I gaze, a solemn joy comes o\'er me : \nBy these deep footprints, I can surely guess \n\nSome pilgrim, by the road that lies before me, \nHath crossed, long time ago, the wilderness. \n\nWith feet oft bruised among its sharp flints, \nduly \n\nHe turned aside to gather simples here, \nAnd lay up cordials for his faintness : truly, \n\nNow will I track his steps, and be of cheer. \n\n\n\n84 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nAnd, wearied, by this wayside fountain\'s brink \nHe sat to rest ; and, as it then befell, \n\nThe stone was rolled away: he stooped to drink \nThe waters springing up from life\'s clear well. \n\nAnd oft, upon his journey faring sadly. \n\nHe communed with this Teacher from on \nhigh ; \nAnd, meeting words of promise, meekly, gladly, \nWent on his way rejoicing. So will I. \n\nDora Greenwell. \n\n\n\nThe Refuge. \n\nTO the haven of thy breast, \nO Son of Man ! I fly : \nBe my refuge and my rest ; \n\nFor, oh ! the storm is high. \nSave me from the furious blast ; \nA covert from the tempest be : \nHide me, Jesus, till o\'erpast \nThe storm of sin I see. \n\nWelcome as the water-spring \nTo a dry, barren place, \n\nOh ! descend on me, and bring \nThy sweet, refreshing grace. \n\n\n\nTHE REFUGE. \n\n\n\n85 \n\n\n\nO\'er a parched and weary land \nAs a great rock extends its shade, \n\nHide me, Saviour, with thine hand, \nAnd screen my naked head. \n\nIn the time of my distress, \n\nThou hast my succor been ; \nIn my utter helplessness, \n\nRestraining me from sin : \nOh, how swiftly didst thou move \n\nTo save me in the trying hour ! \nStill protect me with thy love, \n\nAnd shield me with thy power. \n\nFirst and last in me perform \n\nThe work thou hast begun ; \nBe my shelter from the storm, \n\nMy shadow from the sun : \nWeary, parched with thirst and faint, \n\nTill thou the abiding Spirit breathe, \nEvery moment, Lord, I want \n\nThe merit of thy death. \n\nNever shall I want it less \n\nWhen thou the gift hast given, \n\nFilled me with thy righteousness, \nAnd sealed the heir of heaven : \n\n\n\n86 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nI shall hang upon my God \nTill I thy perfect glory see ; \n\nTill the sprinkling of thy blood \nShall speak me up to thee. \n\nCharles Wesley. \n\n\n\nu Ye did it not to Me." \n\nI SAT, and gazed upon my sunny home : \nAll pleasant things were there, \xe2\x80\x94 \nBright things to look at, and sweet soothing \n\nsounds \nThat came and went upon the perfumed air. \nThe sunbeam glanced and quivered \nThrough the many-colored pane, \nAnd the marble floor at the open door \n\nMirrored it back again ; \nThe flowers blushed in beauty ; \nThe birds sang forth their glee : \nlooked, and listened ; and I thanked my Father \nThat \'twas all for me. \n\nr\\nd then I thought of One who had been here \n\nIn days of yore, \nWearily walking on the world he made, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\n\nYE DID IT NOT TO ME. 87 \n\nThe Son of man, and yet the Son of God ; \n\nDespised and poor ! \nI thought of him when first his infant form \nNeeded a resting-place, and there was none : \nThe King of Heaven was waiting to be housed ; \n\nEarth\'s dwellings had no room ! \nI thought of him upon the mountain-side, \n\nWhen all night long \nThe silent stars looked down upon, his loneli- \nness ; \nFor Jesus had no home ! \n\nI thought and thought, until my gushing heart \nGroaned forth its longings : \n" Oh ! had 1 been there, \nWhat tender ministry, what fostering care, \n\nWouldst thou have known, \n\nThou blessed One ! \n\nWhat kindly words ! \nWhat thoughts and deeds of love ! " \nThe hot tears gathered fast : \nI laid me down and wept \n\nWas it a breeze that stole into my room, \n\nSo like a voice ? \nThat came quite close, \xe2\x80\x94 close to my burning \nbrow, \xe2\x80\x94 \nAnd whispered, "Why not now f\'\' \n\n\n\n88 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nIt came again : I brushed the tears away ; \nAnd, as I bent my head down very low, \nI thought I heard him say, \n" But why not now ? \n\n" There is a doorway in a narrow street, \nAnd close beside that door a broken stair, \n\nAnd then a low, dark room. \nThe room is bare : \n\nBut in a corner lies \nA worn-out form upon a hard straw-bed, \nNo pillow underneath his aching head ; \nA face grown wan with suffering, and a hand \nScarce strong enough to reach the small dry \ncrust \n\nThat lies upon the chair \n\nGo in ; for I am there ! \nI have been waiting wearily in that cold room, \n\nWaiting long, lonely hours, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nWaiting for thee to come. \n\n"There\'s a low, quiet corner in a green church- \nyard, \nWhere deep shadows lie, \nAnd sound of passing feet goes seldom by : \n\n1 want thee there. \nIn that still place, beside a new-made grave, \nA woman has been weeping all day long. \n\n\n\nYE DID IT NOT TO ME. 89 \n\nNone marked her where she sate ; \nAnd now \'tis getting late, \nAnd stars are coming out, \xe2\x80\x94 \nBeautiful stars ! the stars \nThat used to gaze on me at Olivet ; \nThe chill night-dews are creeping through her \n\nframe : \nShe dares not venture back from whence she \ncame. \n\nShe needs a home : \nI called for thee, and waited ; \nBut thou didst not come. \nI want thy pitying tears, that fell just now \nUpon the jewelled slab, to fall upon her cheek ; \n\nFor tears can speak : \nLay thy warm hand upon the fainting one, \nAnd leave me not to watch and weep alone. \n\n" There is one seated near an open door, \nWhere to and fro, all through the busy day, \nThe sorrowing and the poor \nHave found their way ; \nAnd now, for very weariness, \nHis eyes are closed, \xe2\x80\x94 \nKind, earnest eyes, that have looked lovingly \nOn many a ghastly spectacle of woe, \xe2\x80\x94 \nLooked into depths where loathsome miseries \nlie, \n\n\n\n9o \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n\n\nAnd never wept mere idle sympathy. \nThe heavy hand has fallen by his side, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe strong, brave hand \nThat waited my command, \nAnd then did deadly battle with the foe ; \nThat never flinched from any task \n\nTo which I called : \nWere the way smooth or rough, \nMy bidding was enough. \nGo in, and look ; \nFor tears have dropped upon the open book ! \n\n" That heart is burdened, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nBurdened for my sake : \nThou, in thy thoughtless ease, wilt let it break ! \n\'Twas on a summer\'s day, long years ago, \nI called two willing servants to my feet : \nI took them by the hand, and said to each, \n\n1 I shed my blood for thee : \nLovest thou me ? \' \n\nAnd then I gave him work, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nLarge work within my fold. \n\nHe had no earthly store \n\nWherewith to feed my poor : \nIt mattered not ; I\'d given thee my gold. \nWhere is it now ? Look at that pallid brow, \n\nSunk in its weary sleep : \n\nThe furrows are too deep ; \n\n\n\nYE DID IT NOT TO ME \n\n\n\n91 \n\n\n\nThey tell the tale of many an anxious grief, \xe2\x80\x94 \nNot his, but mine ! \n\n"Whence comes the wasting of that haggard \ncheek ? \n\nThe guilt is thine. \nHe gave me all his time and strength and \n\nhealth : \nI took it, and then asked thee for thy wealth, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThy given wealth ; asked that it might be free, \nHeld in thine open hand for him and me. \nThen came the years of conflict and of toil, \nThe days of labor and the nights of prayer ; \n\nSouls perishing in sin, \n\nFew hands to fetch them in ; \n\nThe hungry to be fed ; \n\nThe naked to be clothed ; \n\nThe outcast and the poor \n\nGathering about the door. \nI wanted money, and I wanted bread ; \nI wanted all that willing hands could do ; \nI wanted the quick ear and ready eye, \nAy, and the deep, true soul of sympathy ; \nI wanted help, and then I called for thee : \nI called and waited, and then called again. \nOh ! could it be that I should call in vain ? \n1 called and waited, \n\nAnd thou didst not come ! " \n\n\n\n92 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE \n\n\n\nI tried to hold my breath, and hear him speak ; \nBut \'twas as though my throbbing heart must \nbreak. \nI could not lift my head ; \nI could not sigh : \nThe crimson shame had burnt into my cheek. \nI had no tears ; the very fount was dry. \nOh ! it was long, I cannot tell how long \n\nThat strange, cold stillness ! \nBut I felt that he was waiting there, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nWaiting for me to speak. \nI knelt upon the floor, and breathed his name : \nThen, struggling, one by one the faint words \ncame, \xe2\x80\x94 \n" Jesus, I thought I loved thee : \n\nI remember well \nThat day when thou didst hold \nMy trembling fingers in thy pierced hand, \nAnd take me for thine own. \n\n"And I did love thee ; \n\nThis poor heart beat true : \nIt was no fancied echo when the voice \nThat spoke thee mine \n\nResponded, \' I am thine ! \' \nBut, O my Master ! can I dare to tell, \nThy faithless child has loved thy gifts too well ? \n\n\n\nYE DID IT NOT TO ME. 93 \n\nI looked on all things beautiful and rare, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nLooked on earth\'s flowers, \n\nAnd thought them very fair. \nI hid me from the rude and vulgar throng, \n\nAnd hoped it was thy will \nThat I might turn away from common men, \n\nAnd love thee still. \nI dwelt among the pleasant sounds of life : \nI did not like the turmoil and the strife \n\nTo come too near. \nAnd thou wast in the thickest battle-tide \nWhen thou didst call thy servant to thy side ; \n\nBut I was too far off, \n\nAnd so I did not hear. \n\n" My Lord, I will come nearer ; I will take my \nseat \n\nClose to thy feet ; \nI will come down where the gray shadows lie, \nAnd there I\'ll listen, \xe2\x80\x94 listen every day \n\nTo hear thy voice. \nIt may be I must take a lower place ; \nBut let me have the shining of thy face. \nIt may be I must seek a humbler home ; \nLet it be one where thou wilt often come : \nIts door shall be upon the latch for thee, \nAnd for the needy ones who claim \nAn interest in thy name ; \n\n\n\n04 \n\n\n\nHYMXS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n\n\nAnd I will stand and watch and wait to greet \nThe first faint echoes of thy coming feet." \n\nN. Y. Observer \n\n\n\nA Sacramental Hymn. \n\nHERE. O my Lord ! I see thee face to face ; \nHere would I touch and handle things \nunseen ; \nHere grasp with firmer hand the eternal grace, \nAnd all my weariness upon thee lean. \n\nHere would I feed upon the bread of God. \nHere drink with thee the royal wine of heaven \nHere would I lay aside each earthly load, \nHere taste afresh the calm of sin forgiven. \n\nI have no help but thine, nor do I need \n\nAnother arm save thine to lean upon : \n\nIt is enough, my Lord, enough indeed. \n\nMy strength is in thy might, \xe2\x80\x94 thy might alone \n\nI have no wisdom save in Him who is \nMy Wisdom and my Teacher both in one : \nNo wisdom can I lack while thou art wise ; \nNo teaching do I crave, save thine alone. \n\n\n\nTHE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH. \n\n\n\n95 \n\n\n\nMine is the sin, but thine the righteousness ; \nMine is the guilt, but thine the cleansing blood. \nThis is my robe, my refuge, and my peace, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThy blood, thy righteousness, O Lord my God ! \n\nToo soon we rise ; the symbols disappear ; \nThe feast, but not the love, is passed and gone : \nThe bread and wine remove ; but thou art here, \nNearer than ever, \xe2\x80\x94 still my shield and sun. \n\nFeast after feast thus comes and passes by, \nYet, passing, points to the great feast above ; \nGiving sweet foretastes of the festal joy, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe Lamb\'s great bridal feast of bliss and love. \n\nHORATIUS BONAR. \n\n\n\nThe Holy Catholic Church. \n\nJERUSALEM, my happy home, \nWhen shall I come to thee ? \nWhen shall my sorrows have an end ? \nThy joys when shall I see ? \n\nO happy harbor of the saints ! \n\nO sweet and pleasant soil ! \nIn thee no sorrow may be found ; \n\nNo grief, no care, no toil. \n\n\n\n96 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nThere lust and lucre cannot dwell ; \n\nThere envy bears no sway ; \nThere is no hunger, heat, nor cold, \n\nBut pleasure every way. \n\nThy walls are made of precious stones ; \n\nThy bulwarks, diamonds square ; \nThy gates are of right Orient pearl, \n\nExceeding rich and rare. \n\nThy turrets and thy pinnacles \n\nWith carbuncles do shine ; \nThy very streets are paved with gold, \n\nSurpassing clear and fine. \n\nAh my sweet home, Jerusalem \n\nWould God I were in thee ! \nWould God my woes were at an end, \n\nThy joys that I might see ! \n\nThy saints are crowned with glory great; \n\nThey see God face to face ; \nThey triumph still ; they still rejoice : \n\nMost happy is their case. \n\nWe that are here in banishment \n\nContinually do moan : \nWe sigh and sob ; we weep and wail ; \n\nPerpetually we groan. \n\n\n\nTHE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH. 97 \n\nOur sweet is mixed with bitter gall ; \n\nOur pleasure is but pain ; \nOur joys scarce last the looking-on ; \n\nOur sorrows still remain. \n\nBut there they live in such delight, \n\nSuch pleasure, and such play, \nAs that to them a thousand years \n\nDoth seem as yesterday. \n\nThy gardens and thy gallant walks \n\nContinually are green : \nThere grow such sweet and pleasant flowers \n\nAs nowhere else are seen. \n\nQuite through the streets, with silver sound, \n\nThe flood of life doth flow ; \nUpon whose banks, on every side, \n\nThe wood of life doth grow. \n\nThere trees forevermore bear fruit, \n\nAnd evermore do spring ; \nThere evermore the angels sit, \n\nAnd evermore do sing. \n\nJerusalem, my happy home, \n\nWould God I were in thee : \n\nWould God my woes were at an end, \n\nThy joys that I might see ! \n\nF. B. P. \n\n\n\n98 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n\n\nWhen I awake, I am still with Thee. \n\nSTILL, still with Thee, when purple morning \nbreaketh, \nWhen the bird waketh and the shadows flee : \nFairer than morning, lovelier than the day- \nlight, \nDawns the sweet consciousness, "/ am with \nThee!" \n\nAlone with Thee amid the mystic shadows, \nThe solemn hush of Nature newly born ; \n\nAlone with Thee in breathless adoration \nIn the calm dew and freshness of the morn. \n\n\n\nAs in the dawning o\'er the waveless ocean \nThe image of the morning-star doth rest, \n\nSo in this stillness Thou beholdest only \nThine image in the waters of my breast. \n\nStill, still with Thee ! As to each new-born \nmorning \nA fresh and solemn splendor still is given, \nSo doth this blessed consciousness, awaking, \nBreathe, eacrr day, nearness unto Thee and \nheaven. \n\n\n\nTHE MASTER\'S INVITATION. 99 \n\nWhen sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slum- \nber, \n\nIts closing eye looks up to Thee in prayer : \nSweet the repose beneath the wings o\'ershading, \n\nBut sweeter still to wake and find Thee there. \n\nSo shall it be at last, in that bright morning \nWhen the soul waketh, and life\'s shadows flee : \n\nOh, in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning, \nShall rise the glorious thought, "/ am with \nThee / " \n\nHarriet Beecher Stowe. \n\n\n\nThe Master\'s Invitation. \n\nDEAR Lord, thy table is outspread : \nWhat other could such feast afford ? \nAnd thou art waiting at the head ; \nBut I am all unworthy, Lord : \nYet do I hear thee say, \n\n(Was ever love so free ?) \n" Come hither, son, to-day, \nAnd sit and sup with me." \n\nO Master ! I am full of doubt ; \n\nMy heart with sin and fear denied : \n\n\n\nIOO HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nCome thou, and cast the Tempter out, \nAnd make me as a little child. \nMethinks I hear thee say, \n\n" Come thou at once, and see \nWhat love can take away, \nAnd what confer on thee." \n\nMy Lord, to thee I fain would go, \n\nYet tarry now, 1 know not why : \n\nSpeak, if to tell what well I know, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThat none are half so vile as I. \n\nWhat do I hear thee say ? \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n" Look, trembling one, and see \nThese tokens, which to-day \nTell what I did for thee." \n\nNay, Lord ! I could not here forget \n\nWhat thou didst for my ransom give, \nThe garden prayer, the bloody sweat ; \nAll this, and more, that I might live. \nI hear thee sadly say, \n\n" If this remembered be, \nWhy linger thus to-day ? \n\nWhy doubt and question me ? " \n\nOh love to angels all unknown ! \n\nI turn from sin and self aside : \nThou hast the idol self o\'erthrown ; \n\nI only see the Crucified ; \n\n\n\nSITTING AT THE FEET OF JESUS. ioi \n\nI only hear thee say, \n\n"A feast is spread for thee \n\nOn this and every day, \nIf thou but follow me." \n\nA. D. F. Randolph. \n\n\n\nSitting at the Feet of Jesus. \n\nSITTING at the feet of Jesus, \nOh, what words I hear him say ! \nHappy place ! so near, so precious ! \nMay it find me there each day ! \n\nSitting at the feet of Jesus, \nI would look upon the past ; \n\nFor his love has been so gracious, \nIt has won my heart at last. \n\nSitting at the feet of Jesus : \nWhere can mortal be more blest ? \n\nThere I lay my sins and sorrows, \nAnd, when weary, find sweet rest. \n\nSitting at the feet of Jesus, \nI would wait my way to see ; \n\nLeaning, trusting, and confiding, \nSince he orders all for me. \n\n\n\n102 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nSitting at the feet of Jesus, \n\nHoly happiness I find : \nIn the secret of his presence \n\nHe reveals to me his mind. \n\nSitting at the feet of Jesus, \n\nThere I love to weep and pray, \n\nWhile I from his fulness gather \nGrace and comfort every day. \n\nSitting at the feet of Jesus, \n\n1 would choose that better part, \n\nFlee from earthly cares and pleasures, \nWhile I tell him all my heart. \n\nSitting at the feet of Jesus, \nI there learn his will divine ; \n\nSee his smile, and catch his sweetness, \nAs he whispers, " Thou art mine." \n\nSitting at the feet of Jesus, \nI would pray to be kept there : \n\nClothed and hidden, washed, forgiven, \nI may lay aside all fear. \n\nBless me, O my Saviour ! bless me, \n\nAs I sit low at thy feet : \nOh ! look down in love upon me ; \n\nLet me see thy face so sweet. \n\n\n\nTHE FELLOWSHIP OF SUFFERING. \n\nGive me, Lord, the mind of Jesus ; \n\nMake me holy as he is : \nMay I prove I\'ve been with Jesus, \n\nWho is all my righteousness ! \n\nJ. H. \n\n\n\nThe Fellowship of Suffering. \n\nTHY cruel crown of thorns ! \nBut where, O Lord ! is mine ? \nAre there for me no scoffs and scorns, \nSince only such were thine ? \n\nOr, having named thy name, \nShall I no burden take ? \nAnd is there left no thorn, no shame, \nTo suffer for thy sake ^ \n\nUnscourged of any whip, \nUnpierced of any sting, \xe2\x80\x94 \nO Lord, how faint my fellowship \nWith thy sad suffering ! \n\nYet thy dread sacrifice \nSo fills my soul with woe, \nThat all the fountains of mine eyes \nWell up and overflow. \n\n\n\n103 \n\n\n\nio4 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nThe spear that pierced thy side \nGave wounds to more than thee : \nWithin my soul, O Crucified ! \nThy cross is laid on me. \n\nAnd as thy rocky tomb \nWas in a garden fair, \nWhere round about stood flowers in bloom, \nTo sweeten all the air : \n\nSo, in my heart of stone, \nI sepulchre thy death ; \nWhile thoughts of thee, like roses bluwn, \nBring sweetness in their breath. \n\nArise not, O my Dead ! \nAs one whom Mary sought, \nAnd found an empty tomb instead, \nHer spices all for nought. \n\nO Lord ! not so depart \nFrom my enshrining breast ; \nBut lie anointed in a heart \nThat by thy death is blest. \n\nOr, if thou shalt arise. \nAbandon not thy grave, \nBut bear it with thee to the skies, \xe2\x80\x94 \nA heart that thou shalt save. \n\nTheodore Tilton. \n\n\n\nTHE THRONE OF GRACE. \n\n\n\nThe Throne of Grace. \n\n\n\nio5 \n\n\n\nrHERE is a spot of consecrated ground \nWhere brightest hopes and holiest joys \nare found : \nTis named (and Christians love the well-known \nsound) \n\nThe throne of grace. \n\nTis here a calm retreat is always found : \nPerpetual sunshine gilds the sacred ground ; \nPure airs and heavenly odors breathe around \nThe throne of grace. \n\nWhile on this vantage-ground the Christian \nstands, \n\nHis quickened eye a boundless view com- \nmands ; \n\nDiscovers fair abodes not made with hands, \xe2\x80\x94 \nAbodes of peace. \n\nTerrestrial objects, disenchanted there, \nLose all their power to dazzle or insnare : \nOne only object then seems worth our care, \xe2\x80\x94 \nTo win the race. \n\nThis is the mount where Christ\'s disciples see \nThe glory of incarnate Deity : \n\'Tis here they find it good indeed to be, \nAnd view his face. \n\n\n\nIo6 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nA new creation here begins to rise, \xe2\x80\x94 \nFruits of the Spirit, flowers of Paradise, \nWatered from heaven, in full and sure supplies, \nBy streams of grace. \n\nTowards this blest spot the Spirit bends his ear, \nThe fervent prayer, the contrite sigh, to hear ; \nTo bid the mourner banish every fear, \nAnd go in peace. \n\nHere may the comfortless and weary find \nOne who can cure the sickness of the mind ; \nOne who delights the broken heart to bind, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe Prince of Peace. \n\nSaviour ! the sinner\'s friend, our hope, our all ! \nHere teach us humbly at thy feet to fall ; \nHere on thy name with love and faith to call \nFor pardoning grace. \n\nNe\'er let the glory from this spot remove, \nTill, numbered with thy ransomed flock above, \nWe cease to want, but never cease to love, \nThe throne of grace. \n\nMiss Charlotte Elliott. \n\n\n\nperfection. 107 \n\nPerfection. \n\nOH, how the thought of God attracts \nAnd draws the heart from earth, \nAnd sickens it of passing shows \nAnd dissipating mirth ! \n\n\'Tis not enough to save our souls ; \n\nTo shun the eternal fires : \nThe thought of God will rouse the heart \n\nTo more sublime desires. \n\nGod only is the creature\'s home, \nThough long and rough the road ; \n\nYet nothing less can satisfy \nThe love that longs for God. \n\nOh ! utter but the name of God \n\nDown in your heart of hearts, \nAnd see how from the world at once \n\nAll tempting light departs. \n\nA trusting heart, a yearning eye, \n\nCan win their way above : \nIf mountains can be moved by faith, \n\nIs there less power in love ? \n\n\n\nto8 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nHow little of that road, my soul. \n\nHow little, hast thou gone ! \nTake heart, and let the thought of God \n\nAllure thee farther on. \n\nThe freedom from all wilful sin. \nThe Christian\'s daily task, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nOh ! these are graces far below \nWhat longing love would ask. \n\nDole not thy duties out to God ; \n\nBut let thy hand be free : \nLook long at Jesus : his sweet blood \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nHow was it dealt to thee ? \n\nThe perfect way is hard to flesh : \n\nIt is not hard to love. \nIf thou wert sick for want of God, \n\nHow swiftly wouldst thou move ! \n\nGood is the cloister\'s silent shade, \nCold watch, and pining fast ; \n\nBetter the mission\'s wearing strife. \nIf there thy lot be cast. \n\nYet none of these perfection needs : \nKeep thy heart calm all day. \n\nAnd catch the words the Spirit there \nFrom hour to hour may say. \n\n\n\nDRAW ME TO THEE. 1 09 \n\nOh ! keep thy conscience sensitive ; \n\nNo inward token miss ; \nAnd go where grace entices thee : \n\nPerfection lies in this. \n\nBe docile to thine unseen Guide ; \n\nLove him as he loves thee : \n\nFaith and obedience are enough, \n\nAnd thou a saint shalt be. \n\nFabbr. \n\n\n\nDraw Me to Thee. \n\n1 No man can come to me, except the Father, which hath \nsent me, draw him." \xe2\x80\x94 John vi. 44. \n\nLORD, weak and impotent I stand, \nAs fettered by an unseen hand : \nBreak thou the strong and subtle band, \nAnd draw me close to thee. \n\nIn vain I struggle to be free ; \nI would, but camiot, fly to thee : \nOpe thou the prison-door for me, \nAnd draw me close to thee. \n\nBut can a sinner hope to be \n\nThus sweetly drawn and bound to thee ? \n\n\n\nIIO HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nLord, in thy Word this truth I see : \nThen draw me close to thee. \n\nOh ! bring me nearer, nearer still, \nThat thine own peace my soul may fill. \nAnd I may rest in thy sweet will : \nLord, draw me close to thee. \n\nThen shall my heart on thee repose, \nAnd find a balm for all life\'s woes, \nWhen thou shalt shield from all my foes, \nAnd draw me close to thee. \n\nHere, Lord, I would forever bide, \nAnd never wander from thy side : \nBeneath thy wings do thou me hide, \nAnd draw me close to thee. \n\nM. A. N. \n\n\n\nJesus, the Ladder of my Fa[th. \n\nJESUS, the ladder of my faith \nRests on the jasper-walls of heaven ; \nAnd through the veiling clouds I catch \nFaint visions of the mystic Seven. \n\n\n\nTHE LADDER OF MY FAITH. Ill \n\nThe glory of the rainbowed throne \nIllumes those clouds like lambent flame ; \nAs once, on earth, thy love divine \nBurned through the robes of human shame. \n\nThou art the same, O gracious Lord ! \nThe same dear Christ that thou wert then ; \nAnd all the praises angels sing- \nDelight thee less than prayers of men. \n\nWe have no tears thou wilt not dry ; \nWe have no wounds thou wilt not heal ; \nNo sorrows pierce our human hearts \nThat thou, dear Saviour, dost not feel. \n\nThy pity, like the dew, distils ; \n\nAnd thy compassion, like the light, \n\nOur every morning overfills, \n\nAnd crowns with stars our every night. \n\nLet not the world\'s rude conflict drown \nThe charmed music of thy voice, \nThat calls all weary ones to rest, \nAnd bids all mourning souls rejoice. \n\nHarriet McEwen Kimball. \n\n\n\n112 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n\n\nPrayer against the Power of Sin. \n\nOH that Thou wouldst \xe2\x80\x94 the heavens \nrent \xe2\x80\x94 \nIn majesty come down, \nStretch out Thine arm omnipotent, \nAnd seize me for Thine own ! \n\nDescend, and let Thy lightning burn \n\nThe stubble of Thy foe ; \nMy sins o\'erturn, o\'erturn, o\'erturn, \n\nAnd make the mountains flow. \n\nThou my impetuous spirit guide, \nAnd curb my headstrong will : \n\nThou only canst drive back the tide, \nAnd bid the sun stand still. \n\nWhat though I cannot break my chain, \n\nOr e\'er throw off my load ? \nThe things impossible to men \n\nAre possible to God. \n\nIs there a thing too hard for thee, \n\nAlmighty^Lord of all? \nWhose threatening looks dry up the sea, \n\nAnd make the mountains fall. \n\n\n\nPR A YER. \n\n\n\nIJ 3 \n\n\n\nWho, who shall in thy presence stand, \n\nAnd match Omnipotence ; \nUngrasp the hold of thy right hand, \n\nOr pluck the sinner thence ? \n\nSworn to destroy, let earth assail : \n\nNearer to save thou art ; \nStronger than all the powers of hell, \n\nAnd greater than my heart. \n\nLo ! to the hills I lift mine eye ; \n\nThy promised aid I claim : \nFather of mercies, glorify \n\nThy favorite Jesu\'s name. \n\nSalvation in that name is found, \nBalm of my grief and care ; \n\nA medicine for every wound, \nAll, all I want is there. \n\nJesu ! Redeemer, Saviour, Lord, \nThe weary sinner\'s Friend, \n\nCome to my help, pronounce the word, \nAnd bid my troubles end. \n\nDeliverance to my soul proclaim, \n\nAnd life and liberty ; \nShed forth the virtues of thy name, \n\nAnd Jesus prove to me. \n\n\n\n114 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nFaith to be healed thou know\'st I have ; \n\nFor thou that faith hast given : \nThou canst, thou wilt, the sinner save, \n\nAnd make me meet for heaven. \n\nThou canst o\'ercome this heart of mine ; \n\nThou wilt victorious prove : \nFor everlasting strength is thine, \n\nAnd everlasting love. \n\nThy powerful Spirit shall subdue \n\nUnconquerable sin, \nCleanse this foul heart, and make it new, \n\nAnd write thy law within. \n\nBound down with twice ten thousand ties, \n\nYet, let me hear thy call. \nMy soul in confidence shall rise, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nShall rise, and break through all. \n\nSpeak, and the deaf shall hear thy voice, \n\nThe blind his sight receive, \nThe dumb in songs of praise rejoice, \n\nThe heart of stone believe. \n\nThe Ethiop then shall change his skin, \nThe dead shall feel thy power. \n\nThe loathsome leper shall be clean. \nAnd I shall sin no more. \n\nCharles Wesley. \n\n\n\nTRUST. lit \n\n\n\nTrust. \n\n\n\nI KNOW not if or dark or bright \nShall be my lot ; \nIf that wherein my hopes delight \nBe best or not. \n\nIt may be mine to drag for years \n\nToil\'s heavy chain ; \nOr, day and night, my meat be tears \n\nOn bed of pain. \n\nDear faces may surround my hearth \nWith smiles and glee ; \n\nOr I may dwell alone, and mirth \nBe strange to me. \n\nMy bark is wafted on the strand \n\nBy breath divine, \nAnd on the helm there rests a hand \n\nOther than mine. \n\nOne, who has known in storms to sail, \n\nI have on board : \nAbove the raving of the gale \n\nI have my Lord. \n\n\n\nIl6 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nHe holds me when the billows smite : \n\nI shall not fall. \nIf sharp, \'tis short ; if long, \'tis light : \n\nHe tempers all. \n\nSafe to the land ! \xe2\x80\x94 safe to the land ! \n\nThe end is this ; \nAnd then with him go hand in hand \n\nFar into bliss. \n\nDean of Canterbury. \n\n\n\nNone but Thee. \n\nNOTHING fair on earth I see \nBut I straightway think on Thee : \nThou art fairest in my eyes. \nSource in whom all beauty lies. \n\nWhen I see the reddening dawn, \nAnd the golden sun of morn, \nQuickly turns this heart of mine \nTo Thy glorious form divine. \n\nOft I think upon Thy light \nWhen the gray morn breaks the night ; \nThink what glories lie in Thee, \nLight of all eternity ! \n\n\n\nNONE BUT THEE. XI y \n\nWhen I see the moon arise \n\'Mid heaven\'s thousand golden eyes, \nThen I think, " More glorious far \nIs the Maker of each star ; " \n\nOr I think in Spring\'s sweet hours, \nWhen the fields are gay with flowers, \nAs their varied lines I see, \n" What must their Creator be ! " \n\nWhen along the brook I wander, \nAnd beside the fountain ponder, \nStraight my thoughts take wing, and mount \nUp to Thee, the purest Fount. \n\nSweetly sings the nightingale ; \nSweet the flute\'s soft, plaintive tale : \nSweeter than their richest tone \nIs the name of Mary\'s Son. \n\nSweetly all the air is stirred \nWhen the echo\'s call is heard ; \nBut no sounds my heart rejoice \nLike to my Beloved\'s voice. \n\nCome, thou fairest Lord, appear ; \nCome, let me behold thee near : \nI would see thee face to face ; \nThy perfect image I would trace. \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nTake away these veils that blind, \nJesu. all my soul and mind : \nHenceforth, ever let my heart \nSee thee truly as thou art. \n\nAn GEL us. \n\n\n\n" Not My Will, but Thine, be doxe." \n\nOLORD my God ! do thou thy holy will : \nI will lie still ; \nI will not stir, lest I forsake thine arm. \n\nAnd break the charm \nWhich lulls me. clinging to my Father\'s breast, \nIn perfect rest. \n\nWild Fancy, peace ! thou must not me beguile \n\nWith thy false smile : \n1 know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways. \n\nBe silent. Praise ! \nBlind guide with siren voice, and blinding all \n\nThat hear thy call. \n\nCome. Self-Devotion high and pure ; \nThoughtsthat in thankfulness endure. \nThough dearest hopes are faithless found, \nAnd dearest hearts are bursting round. \n\n\n\nTHY WILL BE DONE \' \n\n\n\nII 9 \n\n\n\nCome, Resignation, spirit meek, \nAnd let me kiss thy placid cheek, \nAnd read in thy pale eye serene \nTheir blessing who by faith can wean \nTheir hearts from sense, and learn to love \nGod only and the joys above. \n\nThey say, who know the life divine, \n\nAnd upward gaze with eagle eyne, \n\nThat by each golden crown on high, \n\nRich with celestial jewelry, \n\nWhich for our Lord\'s redeemed is set, \n\nThere hangs a radiant coronet, \n\nAll gemmed with pure and living light, \n\nToo dazzling for a sinner\'s sight, \n\nPrepared for virgin souls, and them \n\nWho seek the martyr\'s diadem. \n\nNor deem, who to that bliss aspire \n\nMust win their way through blood and fire : \n\nThe writhings of a wounded heart \n\nAre fiercer than a foeman\'s dart. \n\nOft in life\'s stillest shade reclining, \n\nIn desolation unrepining, \n\nWithout a hope on earth to find \n\nA mirror in an answering mind, \n\nMeek souls there are, who little dream \n\nTheir daily strife an angel\'s theme, \n\n\n\n120 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nOr that the rod they take so calm \nShall prove in heaven a martyr\'s palm. \n\nAnd there are souls that seem to dwell \n\nAbove the earth, \xe2\x80\x94 so rich a spell \n\nfloats round their steps where\'er they move. \n\nFrom hopes fulfilled and mutual love. \n\nSuch, if on high their thoughts are set, \n\n.Nor in the stream the source forget, \n\nIf prompt to quit the bliss they know, \n\nFollowing the Lamb where\'er he go, \n\nBy purest pleasures unbeguiled \n\nTo idolize or wife or child, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nSuch wedded souls our God shall own \n\nFor faultless virgins round his throne. \n\nThus everywhere we find our suffering God, \n\nAnd where he trod \nMay set our steps. The cross on Calvary, \n\nUplifted high, \nBeams on the martyr hosts, \xe2\x80\x94 a beacon-light \n\nIn open fight. \n\nTo the still wrestlings of the lonely heart \n\nHe doth impart \nThe virtue of his midnight agony, \n\nWhen none was nigh, \nSave God and one good angel, to assuage \n\nThe tempest\'s rage. \n\n\n\nTHE ROBE OF HOLINESS. 12 I \n\nMortal, if life smile on thee, and thou find \n\nAll to thy mind, \nThink who did once from heaven to hell descent \n\nThee to befriend : \nSo shalt thou dare forego, at his dear call, \n\nThy best, thine all. \n\n" O Father ! not my will, but thine, be done : " \n\nSo spake the Son. \nBe this our charm, mellowing earth\'s rudei \nnoise \n\nOf griefs and joys, \n\nThat we may cling forever to thy breast \n\nIn perfect rest. \n\nJohn Keble. \n\n\n\nThe Robe of Holiness. \n\nSOMETIMES I upward lift mine eyes \nAnd, filled with pleasure, see \nThe happy hosts that throng the skies, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe blood-washed company. \n\n" How beautiful their robes ! " I say ; \n\n\n\n" Their garments all, how white \nFair as the sun\'s ascending ray, \nAnd clear as noonday light." \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nO Saviour! thou hast made them clean, - \nThe garments that they wear ; \n\nAnd all who wash in thee their sin \nMay in those garments share. \n\nI, too, may wear that spotless dress ; \n\nIts beauty I may prove : \nIt is the robe of holiness. \n\nThe dress of perfect love. \n\nProk. T. C. Upham. \n\n\n\nA Closer Walk with God. \n\n(Dear Friend, \xe2\x80\x94 I wrote this hymn because I could never \nsing Cowper\'s, of which it is a paraphrase. No "blessedness" \nin the past has ever equalled that which I know in the present \nservice of the Lord ; and there has never, at any time, been any \npoint in my life in which 1 wished to go back to past experiences ; \nthe present always being richer and better, and the future brighter \nin prospect. Neither have I ever felt any " aching void" in \nmy heart since Jesus filled it in my childhood. I have never \nseen a day so stormy that I sighed for peaceful hours gone. \nBetter in any storm, with the peculiar and most tender love \nwhich the Lord bestows on his tempest-tost ones, than in a calm. \nBetter the night and the waves, and the roaring of the sea, with \nJesus at hand to say, " It is I, be not afraid," than the hours \nof ordinary life when the intercourse is but ordinary. Blessed \nthought, that human hearts can never outgrow that mighty \nheart ! Ever till then, and thenceforward, Yours, s. g. a.) \n\n\n\nA CLOSER WALK WITH GOD. 123 \n\nOH for a closer walk with God, \nA higher, holier frame, \nA brighter light upon the road \nThat leads me to the Lamb ! \n\nRich blessedness e\'en now I know, \n\nIn converse with the Lord : \nSoul-quickening views are granted me \n\nOf Jesus and his word. \n\nHut there are lengths and breadths of love \n\nMy spirit would attain, \nDeep things of God that I would search, \n\nHeights that I long to gain. \n\nAnd I would have this soul of mine \n\nMade "glorious within," \nAdorned with grace, meet for my Lord ! \n\nAnd sure his smile to win. \n\nThe work is thine, O holy Dove ! \n\nI gladly welcome thee : \nCome in, blest Spirit of the Lord ! \n\nPossess both mine and me. \n\nThou knowest all ; thou canst do all ; \n\nBring captive every thought \nIn swift obedience to His will \n\nWhose blood my peace hath bought. \n\n\n\n124 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nThus henceforth \'tis no longer (. \n\nBut Christ that dwells in me : \nTo win me wholly for his own, \n\nHe died upon the tree. \n\nHow close is now my walk with God ! \n\nHow glad my upward way ! \nBrighter and brighter shines the light \n\nUnto the perfect day. \n\nS. G. A. \n\n\n\nSelf-Consecration. \n\nIT grieves me, Lord, it grieves me sore, \nThat I have lived to thee no more, \nAnd wasted half my days. \nMy inward powers shall burn and flame \nWith zeal and passion for thy name : \nI would not speak but for my God, nor move \nbut to his praise. \n\nWhat are my eyes but aids to see \nThe glories of the Deity, \n\nInscribed with beams of light \nOn flowers and stars ? Lord, I behold \nThe shining azure, green and gold ; \nBut, when I try to read thy name, a dimness \nveils my sight. \n\n\n\nSELF-CONSECRA TION. \n\n\n\n"5 \n\n\n\nMine ears are raised when Virgil sings \nSicilian swains or Trojan kings, \n\nAnd drink the music in : \nWhy should the trumpet\'s brazen voice \nOr oaten reed awake my joys, \nAnd yet my heart so stupid lie when sacrec \nhymns begin ? \n\nChange me, O God ! My flesh shall be \nAn instrument of song to thee, \nAnd thou the notes inspire ; \nMy tongue shall keep the heavenly chime, \nMy cheerful pulse shall beat the time, \nAnd sweet variety of sound shall in thy praise \nconspire. \n\nThe dearest nerve about my heart, \n\nShould it refuse to bear a part \n\nWith my melodious breath, \n\nI\'d tear away the vital chord, \n\nA bloody victim to my Lord, \n\nAnd live without that impious string, or sho\\ \n\nmy zeal in death. \n\nIsaac Watt \n\n\n\nI 2 6 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n\n\nTake me, O my Father ! take me. \n\nTAKE me, O my Father ! take me. \nTake me, save me, through thy Son ; \nThat which thou wouldst have me. make me ; \nLet thy will in me be done. \n\nLong from thee my footsteps straying, \n\nThorny proved the way I trod : \nWeary come I now. and praying ; \n\nTake me to thv love, my God. \n\n\n\nFruitless years with grief recalling, \nHumbly I confess my sin : \n\nAt thy feet. O Father ! falling. \nTo thv household take me in. \n\n\n\nFreely now to thee I proffer \nThis relenting heart of mine ; \n\nFreely life and soul I offer. \xe2\x80\x94 \nGift unworthy love like thine. \n\nOnce the world\'s Redeemer, dying, \nBore our sins upon the tree: \n\nOn that sacrifice relying. \nNow I look in hope to thee. \n\n\n\nTHE WAY. \n\nFather, take me ; all forgiving, \nFold me to thy loving breast : \n\nIn thy love forever living, \nI must be forever blest. \n\nRay Palmer. \n\n\n\nI27 \n\n\n\nThe Way, the Truth, and the Life. \n\nTHOU art the Way! \nAll ways are thorny mazes without Thee : \nWhere hearts are pierced, and thoughts all aim- \nless stray, \nIn Thee the heart stand:; firm, the life moves \nfree : \n\nThou art the Way ! \n\nThou art the Truth ! \nQuestions the ages break against in vain \nConfront the spirit in its untried youth ; \nIt starves while learning poison from the grain : \n\nThou art the Truth ! \n\nThou art the Truth ! \nTruth for the mind, grand, glorious, infinite ; \nA heaven still boundless o\'er its highest growth ; \nBread for the heart, its daily need to meet : \n\nThou art the Truth ! \n\n\n\n128 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nThou art the Light ! \nEarth beyond earth no faintest ray can give ; \nHeaven\'s shadeless noontide blinds our mortal \n\nsight ; \nIn Thee we look on God, and love and live : \n\nThou art the Light ! \n\nThou art the Rock ! \nDoubts none can solve heave wild on every \n\nside, \nWave meeting wave of thought in ceaseless \n\nshock ; \nOn Thee the soul rests calm amidst the tide : \nThou art our Rock ! \n\nThou art the Life ! \nAll ways without Thee, paths that end in death ; \nAll life without Thee with Death\'s harvest rife ; \nAll truths dry bones, disjoined, and void of \nbreath : \n\nThou art the Life ! \n\nFor Thou art Love ! \nOur Way and End ! the way is rest with Thee ; \nO living Truth ! the truth is life in Thee ; \nO Life essential ! life is bliss with Thee : \n\nFor Thou art Love ! \n\nAuthor of " Thi\xc2\xa3 Cotta Family." \n\n\n\nIN HIM WE LIVE. \n\n\n\nIn Him we live. \n\n\n\n129 \n\n\n\n1KN0W thou art not far, \nMy God, from me : yon star \nSpeaks of thy nearness, and its rays \nFall on me like thy touch. Oh ! raise \nThese eyes of mine \nTo see thy face, \xe2\x80\x94 even thine, \n\nMy Father and my God ! \n\nThou speakest, and I hear : \nWhat gracious, heavenly cheer \n\nIs in thy gentle speech, my God ! \n\nHow it lifts off the heavy load \nWhich bows my weary head, \nAnd checks me in my speed, \n\nMy gracious God and Lord \' \n\nThou knowest all I am, \nMy evil and my shame ; \n\nAnd yet thou hat\'st me not, \n\nNor hast even once forgot \nThy handiwork divine, \nThis helpless soul of mine, \n\nMy ever-loving Lord ! \n\nThou wilt be nearer yet ; \nAnd one day I shall get \n9 \n\n\n\n\'3\xc2\xa9 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nThe fuller vision of thy face. \nIn all its perfect light and grace, \nWhen I shall see thee as thou art \nAnd in thy kingdom bear my part, \n\nMy blessed King and God ! \n\nHORATIUS BOXAR \n\n\n\nTo Yonder Side. \n\nLuke viii. 22-25. \n\nBEHIND the hills of Xaphtali \nThe sun went slowly down, \nLeaving on mountain, tower, and tree \nA tinge of golden brown. \n\nThe cooling breath of evening woke \n\nThe waves of Galilee. \nTill on the shore the waters broke \n\nIn softest melody. \n\n" Now launch the bark." the Saviour cried, - \nThe chosen Twelve stood by, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n"And let us cross to yonder side, \nWhere the hills are steep and high." \n\n\n\nTO YONDER SIDE. I7t ] \n\nQuietly o\'er the water she creeps, \nWhile the swelling sail they spread ; \n\nAnd the wearied Saviour gently sleeps, \nWith a pillow \'neath his head. \n\nOn downy bed the world seeks rest ; \n\nSleep flies the guilty eye : \nBut He who leans on the Father\'s breast \n\nMay sleep when storms are nigh. \n\nBut soon the lowering sky grew dark \n\nO\'er Bashan\'s rocky brow : \nThe storm rushed down upon the bark, \n\nAnd waves dashed o\'er the prow. \n\nThe pale disciples trembling spake, \nWhile yawned the watery grave, \n\n" We perish, Master ! Master, wake ! \nCarest thou not to save ? " \n\nCalmly he rose with sovereign will, \n\nAnd hushed the storm to rest : \n"Ye waves," he whispered, "peace ! be still ! n \n\nThey calmed like a pardoned breast. \n\nSo have I seen a fearful storm \n\nO\'er wakened sinner roll, \nTill Jesus\' voice and Jesus\' form \n\nSaid, " Peace, thou weary soul ! " \n\n\n\nI32 HYMIiS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nAnd now he bends his gentle eye \n\nHis wondering followers o\'er: \n"Why raise this unbelieving cry ? \n\nI said, To yonder shore." \n\nWhen first the Saviour wakened me, \n\nAnd showed me why he died, \nHe pointed o\'er Life\'s narrow sea, \n\nAnd said, " To yonder side. \n\n" I am the ark where Noah dwelt, \n\nAnd heard the deluge roar : \nNo soul can perish that has felt \n\nMy rest. \xe2\x80\x94 To yonder shore" \n\nPeaceful and calm the tide of life \n\nWhen first I sailed with thee ; \nMy sins forgiven, no inward strife, \n\nMy breast a glassy sea. \n\nBut soon the storm of passion raves ; \n\nMy soul is tempest-tost ; \nCorruptions rise like angry waves : \n\n" Help, Master ! I am lost ! " \n\n" Peace, peace ! be still, thou raging breast ! \n\nMy fulness is for thee." \nThe Saviour speaks, and all is rest \n\nLike the waves of Galilee. \n\n\n\nTHUS WOULD I LIVE. \n\nAnd now I feel this holy eye \nUpbraids my heart of pride : \n\n"Why raise this unbelieving cry? \nI said, To yojider side.\'\'\'\' \n\nRobert Murray McCheyne. \n\n\n\nThus would I live. \n\nLORD, I desire to live as one \nWho bears a blood-bought name ; \nAs one who fears but grieving thee, \nAnd knows no other shame ; \n\nAs one by whom thy walk below \n\nShould never be forgot ; \nAs one who fain would keep apart \n\nFrom all thou lovest not. \n\nI want to live as one who knows \n\nThy fellowship of love ; \nAs one whose eyes can pierce beyond \n\nThe pearl-built gates above ; \n\nAs one who daily speaks to thee, \n\nAnd hears thy voice divine \nWith depths of tenderness declare, \n\n" Beloved ! thou art mine." \n\n\n\n133 \n\n\n\n134 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n1 want to walk as one who knows \nThe guilt that lurks within, \n\nYet trusts, in humble faith, that blood \nWhich cleanses from all sin ; \n\nTo dwell more near my Saviour\'s face \n\nThan ever yet before ; \n\nTo lean upon his loving breast, \n\nAnd own him Conqueror. \n\nJ. H. \n\n\n\nUnion with Christ. \n\nTHEY love their blessed Leader. Not more \nclose \n\nThe branches cling unto the parent tree \n\nThan are his followers bound to Christ. They \nloose, \n\nLike him, their hold on earthly things. They \nfree \n\nTheir hearts from the strong bonds of selfish- \nness, \n\nAnd yield for general good their private weal. \n\nWhere\'er is want, despondency, distress, \n\nThey have the\' hand to toil, the heart to feel. \n\n\'Tis thus the Saviour taught them. They are \none \n\n\n\nPANTING FOR DIVINE LOVE. \n\n\n\n135 \n\n\n\nWith him, and in their souls his image bear, \n\nRejoicing in the likeness. As the sun \n\nDoth spread his radiance through the fields of \n\nair, \nAnd kindle in revolving stars his blaze. \nHe pours upon their hearts the splendor of his \n\nravs - Prof. T. C. Upham. \n\n\n\nPanting for Divine Love. \n\nOLOVE divine, how sweet thou art ! \nWhen shall I find my willing heart \nAll taken up by thee ? \nI thirst and faint and die to prove \nThe greatness of redeeming love, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe love of Christ to me. \n\nStronger his love than death or hell ; \nIts riches are unsearchable : \n\nThe first-born sons of light \nDesire in vain its depth to see ; \nThey cannot reach the mystery, \n\nThe length and breadth and height. \n\nGod only knows the love of God : \n\nOh that it now were shed abroad \n\nIn this poor stony heart ! \n\n\n\nI36 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nFor love I sigh, for love I pine : \nThis only portion, Lord, be mine ; \nBe mine this better part. \n\nOh that I could forever sit \nWith Mary at the Master\'s feet ! \n\nBe this my happy choice ; \nMy only care, delight, and bliss, \nMy joy, my heaven on earth, be this, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nTo hear the Bridegroom\'s voice. \n\nOh that, with humbled Peter, I \nCould weep, believe, and thrice reply, \n\nMy faithfulness to prove ! \nThou know\'st (for all to thee is known), \nThou know\'st, O Lord ! and thou alone, \n\nThou know\'st that thee I love. \n\nOh that I could, with favored John, \nRecline my weary head upon \n\nThe dear Redeemer\'s breast ! \nFrom care and sin and sorrow free, \nGive me, O Lord ! to find in thee \n\nMy everlasting rest. \n\nThy only love do I require ; \nNothing in earth beneath desire, \nNothing in heaven above : \n\n\n\nHUMBLE SERVICE. \n\n\n\n137 \n\n\n\nLet earth and heaven and all things go ; \nGive me thy only love to know ; \nGive me thy only love. \n\nCharles Wesley. \n\n\n\nHumble Service. \n\nIT is an easy thing to say, \n" Thou knovvest that I love thee, Lord ; " \nAnd easy in the bitter fray \nFor his defence to draw the sword. \n\nBut when at his dear hands we seek \n\nSome lofty trust for him to keep, \n\nTo our ambition, vain and weak, \n\nHow strange his bidding, " Feed my sheep" ! \n\n" Too mean a task for love," we cry ; \nRemembering not, if in our pride \nWe pass his humbler service by, \nOur vows are by our deeds denied. \n\nO Father ! help us to resign \n\nOur hearts, our strength, our wills, to thee : \n\nThen even lowliest work of thine \n\nMost noble, blest, and sweet will be. \n\nHarriet McEwen Kimball. \n\n\n\ni38 hymns of the higher life. \n\nForever with the Lord. \n\nFOREVER with the Lord! \nAmen : so let it be ! \nLife from the dead is in that word, \nAnd immortality. \n\nHere in the body pent, \nAbsent from him, I roam, \nYet nightly pitch my moving tent \nA day\'s march nearer home. \n\nMy Father\'s house on high, \nHome of my soul, how near \nAt times, to Faith\'s far-seeing eye. \nThy golden gates appear ! \n\nAh ! then my spirit faints \nTo reach the land I love, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe bright inheritance of saints, \nJerusalem above. \n\nYet clouds will intervene, \nAnd all my prospect flies : \nLike Noah\'s dove, I flit between \nRough seas and stormy skies. \n\n\n\nSIMPLE TRUST. \n\n\n\n139 \n\n\n\nAnon the clouds depart, \nThe winds and waters cease, \nWhile sweetly o\'er my gladdened heart \nExpands the bow of peace. \n\nBeneath its glowing arch, \nAlong its hallowed ground, \nI see cherubic armies march, \nA camp of fire around. \n\nI hear at morn and even, \nAt noon and midnightMiour, \nThe choral harmonies of heaven \nEarth\'s Babel tongues o\'erpower : \n\nThen, then I feel that He, \nRemembered or forgot, \nThe Lord, is never far from me, \nThough I perceive him not. \n\nJames Montgomery. \n\n\n\nSimple Trust. \n\nSTILL, still, without ceasing, \nI feel it increasing, \nThis fervor of holy desire ; \n\n\n\nI40 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nAnd often exclaim, \n" Let me die in the flame \nOf a love that can never expire ! " \n\nHad I words to explain \n\nWhat she must sustain \nWho dies to the world and its ways. \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nHow joy and affright, \n\nDistress and delight, \nAlternately checker her days, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThou sweetly severe ! \n\nI would make Thee appear \nIn all Thou art pleased to award, \n\nNot more in the sweet \n\nThan the bitter I meet, \nMy tender and merciful Lord. \n\nThis faith in the dark, \n\nPursuing its mark \nThrough many sharp trials of love, \n\nIs the sorrowful waste \n\nThat is to passed \nOn the way to the Canaan above. \n\nMadams Guyon. \n\n\n\nthe hidden life. 141 \n\nThe Hidden Life. \n\nTO tell the Saviour all my wants, \nHow pleasing is the task ! \nNor less to praise him when he grants \nBeyond what I can ask. \n\nMy laboring spirit vainly seeks \n\nTo tell but half the joy ; \nWith how much tenderness he speaks, \n\nAnd helps me to reply. \n\nNor were it wise, nor should I choose, \n\nSuch secrets to declare : \nLike precious wines, their tastes they lose, \n\nExposed to open air. \n\nBut this with boldness I proclaim, \nNor care if thousands hear, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nSweet is the ointment of his name ; \nNor life is half so dear. \n\nAnd can you frown, my former friends, \nWho knew what once I was, \n\nAnd blame the song that thus commends \nThe Man who bore the cross ? \n\n\n\n142 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nTrust me, I draw the likeness true. \n\nAnd not as fancy paints : \nSuch honor may he give to you ! \n\nFor such have all his saints. \n\nWilliam Ccwpbr. \n\n\n\nThe Hour of Prayer. \n\nMY God ! is any hour so sweet, \nFrom blush of morn to evening star, \nAs that which calls me to thy feet, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe hour of prayer ? \n\nBlest be the tranquil hour of morn, \nAnd blest that hour of solemn eve, \nWhen, on the wings of prayer upborne, \nThe world I leave. \n\nFor then a day-spring shines on me, \nBrighter than morn\'s ethereal glow ; \nAnd richer dews descend from thee \nThan earth can know. \n\nThen is my strength by thee renewed ; \nThen are my sins by thee forgiven ; \nThen dost thou cheer my solitude \nWith hopes of heaven. \n\n\n\nTHE CANCELLED BOND. 1 43 \n\nWords cannot tell what blest relief \nKere for my every want I find ; \nWhat strength for warfare, balm for grief ; \nWhat peace of mind. \n\nHushed is each doubt ; gone every fear ; \nMy spirit seems in heaven to stay ; \nAnd e\'en the penitential tear \nIs wiped away. \n\nOh ! till I reach yon peaceful shore, \nNo privilege so dear shall be \nAs thus my inmost soul to pour \nIn prayer to thee. \n\nMiss Charlotte Elliott. \n\n\n\nThe Cancelled Bond. \n\n\n\nE \n\n\n\nE gave me back the bond, \xe2\x80\x94 \nIt was a heavy debt ; \nAnd, as He gave, He smiled, and said, \n" Thou wilt not Me forget" \n\nHe gave me back the bond, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe seal was torn away ; \nAnd, as He gave, He smiled, and said, \n" Think thou of Me alway" \n\n\n\n144 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nThat bond I still will keep. \nAlthough it cancelled be : \nIt tells me what I owe to Him \nWho paid the debt for me. \n\nI look on it, and smile ; \nI look again, and weep : \nThis record of His love to me \nForever will I keep. \n\nA bond it is no more ; \nBut it shall ever tell \nThat all I owed was fully paid \nBy my Emmanuel. \n\n\n\nHear my Cry. \n\nO STRONG to save and bless, \nMy Rock and Righteousness ! \nDraw near to me : \nBlessing and joy and might, \nWisdom and love and light. \nAre all with thee. \n\nMy.Refuge and my Rest ! \nAs child on mother\'s breast. \nI lean on thee. \n\n\n\nHEAR MY CRY. \n\nFrom faintness and from fear, \nWhen foes and ill are near, \nDeliver me. \n\nTurn not away thy face ; \nWithhold not needed grace ; \n\nMy fortress be. \nPerils are round and round ; \nIniquities abound : \n\nSee, Saviour ! see ! \n\nCome, God and Saviour, come ! \nI can no more be dumb ; \n\nAppeal I must \nTo thee, the gracious One, \nElse is my hope all gone, \n\nI sink in dust ! \n\nOh, answer me, my God ! \nThy love is deep and broad ; \n\nThy grace is true : \nThousands this grace have shared ; \nOh ! let me now be heard ; \n\nOh ! love me too. \n\nDescend, thou mighty Love, \xe2\x80\x94 \nDescend from heaven above ; \nFill thou this soul ; \n\n\n\n145 \n\n\n\n146 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nHeal every bruised part, \nBind up this broken heart, \nAnd make me whole. \n\n\'Tis knowing thee that heals ; \n\'Tis seeing thee that seals \n\nComfort and peace. \nShow me thy cross and blood, \nMy Saviour and my God, \n\nThen troubles cease. \n\nHORATIUS BONAR. \n\n\n\nGlory to God alone. \n\nO LOVED ! but not enough, though dearer \nfar \nThan self and its most loved enjoyments are : \nNone duly loves thee, but who, nobly free \nFrom sensual objects, finds his all in thee. \n\nGlory of God ! thou stranger here below, \nWhom man nor knows, nor feels a wish to \n\nknow : " \nOur faith and reason are both shocked to find \nMan in the post of honor, thee behind. \n\n\n\nGLORY TO GOD ALONE. \n\n\n\n147 \n\n\n\nReason exclaims, " Let every creature fall, \nAshamed, abased, before the Lord of all ! " \nAnd Faith, o\'erwhelmed with such a dazzling \n\nblaze, \nFeebly describes the beauty she surveys. \n\nYet man, dim-sighted man, and rash as blind, \nDeaf to the dictates of his better mind, \nIn frantic competition dares the skies, \nAnd claims precedence of the Only- Wise. \n\nOh lost in vanity till once self-known ! \nNothing is great or good but God alone : \nWhen thou shalt stand before his awful face, \nThen, at the last, thy pride shall know its place. \n\nGlorious Almighty, first, and without end ! \n\nWhen wilt thou melt the mountains, and de- \nscend ? \n\nWhen wilt thou shoot abroad thy conquering \nrays, \n\nAnd teach these atoms, thou hast made, thy \npraise ? \n\nThy glory is the sweetest heaven I feel ; \nAnd, if I seek it with too fierce a zeal. \nThy love, triumphant o\'er a selfish will, \nTaught me the passion, and inspires it still. \n\n\n\n148 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nMy reason, all my faculties, unite \nTo make thy glory my supreme delight : \nForbid it. Fountain of my brightest days, \nThat I should rob thee, and usurp thy praise ! \n\nMy soul, rest happy in thy low estate. \nNor hope nor wish to be esteemed or great : \nTo take the impression of a will divine \xe2\x80\x94 \nBe that thy glory, and those riches thine. \n\nConfess him righteous in his just decrees ; \nLove what he loves, and let his pleasure please; \nDie daily ; from the touch of sin recede ; \nThen thou hast crowned him, and he reigns \nindeed. \n\nMadame Guvon. \n\n\n\nRejoicing ix Hope. \n\nI KNOW that my Redeemer lives, \nAnd ever prays for me : \nA token of his love he gives, \nA pledge of liberty. \n\n] find him lifting up my head ; \n\nHe brings salvation near ; \nHis presence makes me free indeed, \n\nAnd he will soon appear. \n\n\n\nREJOICING IN HOPE. 149 \n\nHe wills that I should holy be : \nWhat can withstand his will ? \n\nThe counsel of his grace in me \nHe surely shall fulfil. \n\nJesus, I hang upon thy word : \n\nI steadfastly believe \nThou wilt return and claim me, Lord, \n\nAnd to thyself receive. \n\nJoyful in hope, my spirit soars \n\nTo meet thee from above ; \nThy goodness thankfully adores ; \n\nAnd sure I taste thy love. \n\nThy love I soon expect to find \nIn all its depth and height ; \n\nTo comprehend the Eternal Mind, \nAnd grasp the Infinite. \n\nWhen Christ doth in my heart appear, \nAnd Love erects its throne, \n\nI then enjoy salvation here, \n\nAnd heaven on earth begun. \n\nWhen God is mine, and I am his, \n\nOf Paradise possest, \nI taste unutterable bliss \n\nAnd everlasting rest. \n\n\n\nIjO HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE \n\nThe bliss of those that fully dwell, \n\nFully in thee believe, \nTis more than angel-tongues can tell \n\nOr angel-minds conceive. \n\nThou only know\'st who didst obtain, \nAnd die to make it known : \n\nThe great salvation now explain, \nAnd perfect us in one. \n\nMay I. may all who humbly wait, \nThe glorious joy receive, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nJoy above all conception great, \nWorthy of God to give ! \n\nLord, I believe, and rest secure \n\nIn confidence divine : \nThy promise stands forever sure, \n\nAnd all thou art is mine. \n\nCharles Wesley. \n\n\n\nThe Voyage. \n\n,r T\\VAS lovely all, \xe2\x80\x94 this glorious earth, \n-A- With sunny garniture of bloom : \n\nI walked in light and beauty forth, \nAnd well-nigh had forgot the tomb. \n\n\n\nTHE VOYAGE. \n\n\n\n151 \n\n\n\nWell-nigh, alas ! There was a breath \n\nOf poison on the summer air ; \nAnd life and joy, disease and death, \n\nSeemed often, strangely, blending there, \n\nAnd whispered tones of coming ill : \nAh me ! I could not choose but hear \n\nThat life was but a gliding rill, \n\nAnd death\'s dark waves were rolling near. \n\nWhich way to fly ? That murmuring stream \nWas music to my spell-bound ears : \n\nI strove as in a midnight dream, \n\nPleasant, but still disturbed with fears. \n\nI strove and conquered, broke the spell, \nAnd asked again which way to fly ; \n\nTurned from the path that leads to hell, \nBut saw no other pathway nigh. \n\nFar off upon the distant sea \n\nThere lay a bark of wondrous size : \n\nWith canvas spread, she seemed to be \nA cloud upon the summer-skies. \n\nA waving flag, of crimson fold, \nCircled the lofty topmast round : \n\nUpon it blazed, inwrought with gold, \nThese cheering words, " For Zion bound." \n\n\n\n152 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n\n\nFor Zion bound, that bark had borne \nIts thousands to a happier shore ; \n\nAnd though \'twas old, and sadly worn, \nI knew \'twould bear its thousands more. \n\nI stretched my arms : they saw me there, \nHalf deluged by the driving spray ; \n\nThey lowered a boat with anxious care, \nAnd made the shore whereon I lay. \n\nJust then a little shallop passed, \n\nWith trim white sails and pennons gay : \n\nMount Zion, too, was on her mast, \n\nAs o\'er the waves she winged her way. \n\n" Take me ! " I cried with irantic wail, \nAs down upon the breeze she bore : \n\nThey turned her helm, and shifted sail, \nAnd ran her close along the shore. \n\n\'\xe2\x96\xa0 On board ! " they cried : u we run a race \nFor Zion\'s port ; and, close beside, \n\nA thousand boats are on the chase, \nWhile we are losing wind and tide." \n\nWith eager haste I seized a hand \n\nThat quickly drew me from the shore : \n\nI only thought of Zion\'s land ; \nOf life, \xe2\x80\x94 of life forevermore. \n\n\n\nTHE VOYAGE. \n\n\n\niS3 \n\n\n\nAh ! beautiful it was to fly \n\nSo like an eagle in the air ; \nTo pass the shore so quickly by, \n\nAnd dream that we were almost there ; \n\nTo dream the passage would be short : \nAlas ! it seemed not thus to me. \n\nWe touched along from port to port, \nBut seldom ventured out to sea. \n\nWe would not run our race in vain, \n\nBut snatched the good each moment brings. \n\nAnd made our godliness a gain \nBy bartering it for earthly things. \n\nOur colors floated on the breeze \nWith Zion\'s flag of crimson glow ; \n\nBut colors too, diverse from these, \nWere floating o\'er our decks below. \n\nWe sang the songs of Zion\'s hill ; \n\nOn holy-days our raptures told ; \nBut often anchored where the chill \n\nAnd sluggish streams of Babel rolled. \n\nAnd there our earthly love prevailed, \nTill hushed at last was Zion\'s song ; \n\nAnd e\'en the port for which we sailed \nNo longer seemed to urge us on. \n\n\n\n\'54 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n\n\nAll things to us were lawful then, \nAll things expedient and divine, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nTo buy and sell the souls of men, \nAnd lay them on our Moloch shrine ; \n\nTo tamper thus with earthly dross, \nTo wear its tinsel bright and gay, \n\nTill every vestige of the cross \nHad faded from the soul away. \n\nOne night \xe2\x80\x94 alas ! can I forget \nThe horrors of that awful night. \n\nWhen billows washed our reeling deck, \nAnd storm-winds blew with fearful might ? \n\n" Unlade the ship ! " The trumpet-tone \nAbove the bellowing tempest roared : \n\n" Bring forth your treasures, every one, \nAnd quickly cast them overboard." \n\nWe brought our merchandise of souls, \nAnd cast it on the foaming wave : \n\nBack on itself the billow rolls, \nAnd opens wide a watery grave. \n\nWe brought our treasures with a sigh, \nOur earthly treasures, one by one : \n\nThey turned to bubbles ; floated by, \nUpon the angry surges borne. \n\n\n\nTHE VOYAGE. jq- \n\nOne moment more, \xe2\x80\x94 a moment brief, \xe2\x80\x94 \nAnd, clinging to that sea-washed deck, \n\nThe storm-wind bore us to a reef, \n\nWhere all was cast, a shapeless wreck. \n\nAll, all was gone ! each beam and spar ! \n\n\'Twas then we raised our failing eyes, \nAnd saw, amid the clouds afar, \n\nA ray of starlight in the skies. \n\nAnd just beneath this cheering ray, \nFar down upon the troubled sea, \n\nWe saw that ship that in the bay \nSo old and worn appeared to be. \n\nOn, on her course, with sails unfurled, \nShe like a spirit seemed to glide, \n\nWhile mountain- waves were o\'er her hurled, \nAnd breakers roared on either side. \n\n" Save us ! we perish ! " \xe2\x80\x94 loud the cry \nThat rose above the tempest\'s wail ; \n\nWhile through the mist we strained our eye \nTo watch that swiftly-gliding sail. \n\n" Fear not ; \'tis I ! " The ocean spray \nA moment spread its misty pall ; \n\nThe next upon the deck we lay, \n\nSaved, saved at last, but stripped of all. \n\n\n\n[ 5\xc2\xb0 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n\n\nThe storm is past, and sunlight steals \nAlong the waters bright and free, \n\nAnd to the eye of faith reveals \nThe land that lies beyond the sea. \n\nWe pause no more to fling our gold \nFor pebbles on the nearest strand, \n\nBut keep our wealth, of price untold, \nAnd lay it up for Canaan\'s land. \n\nAnd should the storms again o\'erwhelm \nOur bark upon Life\'s changing sea, \n\nIf Jesus holds our vessel\'s helm, \nThe storm and calm alike shall be. \n\nHigh on the raging billows borne, \nOr sweetly wafted o\'er the deep, \n\nAlike to us the calm or storm, \n\nIf Israel\'s guard our watch shall keep. \n\nAnd when the ransomed of the Lord \n\nWith singing unto Zion come, \nAnd every harp, from every chord, \n\nShall shout the pilgrim\'s welcome home ; \n\nWhen, far beyond the billow\'s roar, \n\nThe hidden rock, the treacherous sand, \n\nWe furl our sails, and hail the shore, \nThe verdant shore, of Zion\'s land, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n\n\nA HEAVENLY BREEZE. \n\nOh ! then we\'ll sing of dangers past, \nOf toils that made our bliss complete, \n\nThat brought our crowns and palms at last \nAs trophies at the Saviour\'s feet. \n\nMrs. Mary Maxwell. \n\n\n\nA Heavenly Breeze. \n\nIT comes, it comes ! I know not why : \nThe wings of love divine surround me \nAnd God is stooping from on high \nTo shed the air of heaven around me. \n\nIt brings a calm, a Christ-like peace, \n\'Mid inward music sweetly flowing ; \n\nIt whispers, " Free and sovereign grace \nThis heavenly breeze is now bestowing." \n\nI feel it, aye, most mild and sweet, \n\nIn fragrant waves now gliding o\'er me : \n\nIt circles round my heart\'s retreat, \nAnd fans away the mists before me. \n\nIt is not fancy that deludes ; \n\n\'Tis no impulsive flight of feeling; \n\'Tis no illusion that intrudes ; \n\nBut \'tis the Holy Spirit\'s sealing ! \n\n\n\n*57 \n\n\n\n<58 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n\n\nCome, Holy Spirit ! waft along \n\nA constant breeze to breathe around me ; \nAnd let me hear the seraphs\' song \n\nWhile heavenly atmospheres surround me. \n\nStill let me have this lamb-like frame, \n\nAnd bask amid thy beams bright shining, \n\nAnd feel thy love\'s encircling flame, \nMy heart with thine in union twining. \n\nSo shall I dwell in heaven below ; \n\nOn me thy full salvation pouring : \nOn " eagle\'s wings " to God I\'ll go, \n\nAnd fall before his throne adoring. \n\n\n\nThe Gospel in the Lord\'s Supper. \n\nNO gospel like this feast \nSpread for thy Church by Thee : \nNor prophet nor evangelist \nPreach the glad news so free. \n\nPicture and parable ! \n\nAll truth and love divine, \nIn one bright point made visible, \n\nHence on the heart they shine : \n\n\n\nTHE LORD\'S SUPPER. j^g \n\nAll our redemption cost ; \n\nAll our redemption won ; \nAll it has won for us, the lost ; \n\nAll it cost Thee, the Son. \n\nThine was the bitter price, \n\nOurs is the free gift given ; \nThine was the blood of sacrifice, \n\nOurs is the wine of heaven. \n\nFor thee the burning thirst, \nThe shame, the mortal strife, \n\nThe broken heart, the side transpierced ; \nTo us the Bread of Life. \n\nTo thee our curse and doom \n\nWrapped round thee with our sin, \n\nThe horror of that mid-day gloom, \nThe deeper, night within ; \n\nTo us thy home in light, \n\nThy " Come, ye blessed, come ! " \nThy bridal raiment pure and white, \n\nThy Father\'s welcome home. \n\nHere we would rest midway, \n\nAs on a sacred height, \nThat darkest and that brightest day \n\nMeeting before our sight ; \n\n\n\nr6o HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nFrom that dark depth of woes \n\nThy love for us hath trod, \nUp to the heights of blest repose \n\nThy love prepares with God ; \n\nTill, from self\'s chains released, \n\nOne sight alone we see ; \nStill at the cross, as at the feast, \n\nBehold thee, \xe2\x80\x94 only thee. \n\nAuthor of "The Cotta Family." \n\n\n\nLove to Christ, Present or Absent. \n\nOF all the joys we mortals know, \nJesus, thy love exceeds the rest ; \nLove, the best blessing here below, \nAnd nearest image of the blest. \n\nSweet are my thoughts, and soft my cares, \nWhen the celestial flame I feel : \nIn all my hopes and all my fears \nThere\'s something kind and pleasing still. \n\nWhile I am held in his embrace, \nThere\'s not a thought attempts to rove : \nEach smile he wears upon his face \nFixes and charms and fires my love. \n\n\n\nLOVE TO CHRIST. 161 \n\nHe speaks, and straight immortal joys \nRun through my ears, and reach my heart : \nMy soul all melts at that dear voice, \nAnd pleasure shoots through every part. \n\nIf he withdraw a moment\'s space, \nHe leaves a sacred pledge behind : \nHere in this breast his image stays, \nThe grief and comfort of my mind. \n\nWhile of his absence I complain, \nAnd long and weep as lovers do, \nThere\'s a strange pleasure in the pain ; \nAnd tears have their own sweetness too. \n\nWhen round his courts by day I rove, \nOr ask the watchman of the night \nFor some kind tidings of my love, \nHis very name creates delight. \n\nJesus, my God : yet rather come ; \nMine eyes would dwell upon thy face : \n\'Tis best to see my Lord at home, \nAnd feel the presence of his grace. \n\nIsaac Wat rs. \n\n\n\n162 hymns of the higher life. \n\nThe Alpine Sheep. \n\nAFTER our child\'s untroubled breath \nUp to the Father took its way, \nAnd on our home the shade of death, \nLike a long, misty twilight, lay, \n\nAnd friends came round with us to weep \nHer little spirit\'s swift remove, \nThis story of the Alpine sheep \nWas told to us by one we love : \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n"They, in the valley\'s sheltering care, \nSoon crop the meadow\'s tender prime , \nAnd, when the sod grows brown and bare, \nThe shepherd strives to make them climb \n\n" To airy shelves of pastures green \nThat hang along the mountain\'s side, \nWhere grass and flowers together lean, \nAnd down through mist the sunbeams slide. \n\nkk But nought can tempt the timid things \nThat steep and rugged path to try, \nThough sweet the shepherd calls and sings. \nAnd seared below the pastures lie, \n\n" Till in his arms their lambs he takes, \nAlong the dizzy verge to go ; \nThen, heedless of the lifts and breaks, \nThev follow on o\'er rocks and snow : \n\n\n\nRENOUNCING THE WORLD. 163 \n\n" And in those pastures lifted fair, \nMore dewy soft than lowland mead, \nThe shepherd drops his tender care, \nAnd sheep and lambs together feed." \n\nThis parable, by Nature breathed, \nBlew on me as the south wind free \nO\'er frozen brooks that float unsheathed \nFrom icy thraldom to the sea. \n\nA blissful vision through the night \nWould all my happy senses sway, \xe2\x80\x94 \nOf the Good Shepherd on the height, \nOr climbing up the stony way, \n\nHolding our little lamb asleep ; \nAnd like the burden of the sea \nSounded that voice along the deep, \nSaying, "Arise, and follow me." \n\nMrs. Maria Loweli \n\n\n\nRenouncing the World. \n\nCOME, my fond, fluttering heart ; \nCome, struggle to be free : \nThou and the world must part, \nHowever hard it be. \n\n\n\n164 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nMy trembling spirit owns it just, \nBut cleaves yet closer to the dust. \n\nYe tempting sweets, forbear ; \n\nYe dearest idols, fall : \nMy love ye must not share ; \nJesus shall have it all. \n\'Tis bitter pain, \'tis cruel smart ; \nBut, ah ! thou must consent, my heart. \n\nYe fair, enchanting throng, \n\nYe golden dreams, farewell ! \nEarth has prevailed too long, \nAnd now I break the spell : \nYe cherished joys of former years \xe2\x80\x94 \nJesus, forgive these parting tears ! \n\nBut must I part with all ? \n\nMy heart still fondly pleads : \nYes, Dagon\'s self must fall ; \nIt beats, it throbs, it bleeds. \nIs there no balm in Gilead found \nTo soothe and heal the smarting wound? \n\nOh. yes ! there is a balm, \n\nA kind Physician, there, \nMy fevered mind to calm, \n\nTo bid me not despair : \n\n\n\n\'\'SURELY I COME QUICKLY." 165 \n\nAid me, dear Saviour, set me free, \nAnd I will all resign to thee. \n\nOh, may I feel thy worth, \n\nAnd let no idol dare, \nNo vanity of earth, \n\nWith thee, my Lord, compare ! \nNow bid all worldly joys depart, \nAnd reign supremely in my heart. \n\nJ. Taylor. \n\n\n\n"Surely I come Quickly." \n\nI SOJOURN in a vale of tears : \nAlas ! how can I sing ? \nMy harp doth on the willows hang, \nDistuned in every string. \n\nMy music is a captive\'s chains ; \n\nHarsh sounds my ears do fill : \nHow shall I sing sweet Zion\'s song \n\nOn this side Zion\'s hill ? \n\nYet, lo ! I hear a joyful sound, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n" Surely I quickly come : " \nEach word much sweetness doth distil, \n\nLike a full honeycomb. \n\n\n\n[66 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nAnd dost thou come, my dearest Lord ? \n\nAnd dost thou surely come ? \nAnd dost thou surely quickly come ? \n\nMethinks I am at home ! \n\nMy Jesus is gone up to heaven \n\nTo get a place for me ; \nFor "tis his will, that where he is, \n\nThere should his servants be. \n\nCanaan I view from Pisgab\'s top. \nOf Canaan\'s grapes I taste : \n\nMy Lord, who sends unto me here, \nWill send for vie at last. \n\nI have a God that changeth not : \nWhy should I be perplext ? \n\nMy God, that owns me in this world, \nWill own me in the next. \n\nGo fearless then, my soul, with God \n\nInto another room : \nThou who hast walked with him here, \n\nGo, see thy God at home. \n\nMy dearest friends they dwell above ; \n\nThem will I go to see : \nAnd all my friends in Christ below \n\nWill soon come after me. \n\n\n\nJESUS. 167 \n\nFear not the trump\'s earth-rending sound ; \n\nDread not the day of doom : \n\nFor he that is to be the Judge \n\nThy Saviour is become. \n\nJohn Mason. \n\n\n\nJesus. \n\nJESUS, I love thy charming name ; \n\'Tis music to mine ear : \nFain would I sound it out so loud, \nThat earth and heaven should hear. \n\nYes, thou art precious to my soul ; \n\nMy transport and my trust : \nJewels to thee are gaudy toys, \n\nAnd gold is sordid dust. \n\nAll my capacious powers can wish \n\nIn thee doth richly meet ; \nNor to mine eyes is light so dear, \n\nNor friendship half so sweet. \n\nThy grace still dwells upon my heart, \nAnd sheds its fragrance there ; \n\nThe noblest balm of all its wounds, \nThe cordial of its care. \n\n\n\n1 68 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nI\'ll speak the honors of thy name \nWith my last laboring breath ; \n\nThen, speechless, clasp thee in mine arms, \nThe antidote of death. \n\nPhilip Doddridge. \n\n\n\nThe Rest from Sin. \n\nLORD, I believe a rest remains \nTo all thy people known ; \nA rest where pure enjoyment reigns, \nAnd thou art loved alone ; \n\nA rest where all our soul\'s desire \n\nIs fixed on things above ; \nWhere doubt and pain and fear expire, \n\nCast out by perfect love ; \n\nA rest of lasting joy and peace, \n\nWhere all is calm within ; \n\'Tis there from our own works we cease. \n\nFrom pride and self and sin. \n\nOur spirit right, our heart is clean, \n\nOur nature is renewed : \nWe cannot \xe2\x80\x94 no, we cannot \xe2\x80\x94 sin: \n\nFor we are born of God. \n\n\n\nTHE REST FROM SIN. 169 \n\nFrom every evil motive freed, \n(The Son hath made us free,) \n\nOn all the powers of hell we tread. \nIn glorious liberty. \n\nRedeemed, we walk on holy ground ; \n\nIn Christ we cannot err : \nNo lion in that way is found ; \n\nNo ravenous beast is there. \n\nSafe in the way of life, above \nDeath, earth, and hell we rise : \n\nWe find, when perfected in love, \nOur long-sought paradise. \n\nWithin that Eden we retire ; \n\nWe rest in Jesu\'s name : \nIt guards us as a wall of fire, \n\nAnd as a sword of flame. \n\nOh that I now the rest might know, \n\nBelieve, and enter in ! \nNow, Saviour, now, the power bestow, \n\nAnd let me cease from sin. \n\nRemove this hardness from my heart, \n\nThis unbelief remove ; \nTo me the rest of faith impart, \n\nThe sabbath of thy love. \n\n\n\n170 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nI groan from sin to be set free, \n\nFrom self to be released : \nOh ! take me, take me, into thee, \n\nMine everlasting Rest. \n\nI would be thine, \xe2\x80\x94 thou know\'st I would, - \nAnd have thee all mine own : \n\nThee, O mine all-sufficient Good ! \nI want, and thee alone. \n\nThy name to me, thy nature, grant ; \n\nThis, only this, be given : \nNothing besides my God I want, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nNothing in earth or heaven. \n\nCome, O my Saviour ! come away ; \n\nInto my soul descend : \nNo longer from thy creature stay, \n\nMy Author and my End. \n\nThe bliss thou hast for me prepared \n\nNo longer be delayed : \nCome, my exceeding great Reward. \n\nFor whom I first was made. \n\nCome, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, \n\nAnd seal me thine abode : \nLet all I am in thee be lost ; \n\nLet all be lost in God ! \n\nCharles Wesley. \n\n\n\nge thsema ne. i 7 i \n\nGethsemane. \n\nJESUS, while he dwelt below, \nAs divine historians say, \nTo a place would often go ; \nNear to Kedron\'s brook it lay : \nIn this place he loved to be, \nAnd \'twas named Gethsemane. \n\n\'Twas a garden, as we read, \n\nAt the foot of Olivet, \n\nLow, and proper to be made \n\nThe Redeemer\'s lone retreat : \n\nWhen from noise he would be free, \n\nThen he sought Gethsemane. \n\nThither, by their Master brought, \nHis disciples likewise came ; \nThere the heavenly truths he taught \nOften set their hearts on flame : \nTherefore they, as well as he, \nVisited Gethsemane. \n\nOft conversing here they sat, \nOr might join with Christ in prayer : \nOh ! what blest devotion that, \nWhen the Lord himself is there ! \nAll things thus did there agree \nTo endear Gethsemane. \n\n\n\nI72 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nFull of love to man\'s lost race, \nOn the conflict much he thought : \nThis he knew the destined place, \nAnd he loved the sacred spot ; \nTherefore Jesus chose to be \nOften in Gethsemane. \n\nCame at length the dreadful night : \nVengeance, with its iron rod, \nStood, and with collected might \nBruised the harmless Lamb of God ! \nSee, my soul ! thy Saviour see, \nProstrate in Gethsemane ! \n\nView him in that olive-press, \n\nWrung with anguish, whelmed with blood ; \n\nHear him pray in his distress, \n\nWith strong cries and tears, to God; \n\nThen reflect what sin must be, \n\nGazing on Gethsemane. \n\nGloomy garden, on thy beds, \nWashed by Kedron\'s water-pool, \nGrow most rank and bitter weeds : \nThink on these, my soul, my soul ! \nWouldst^hou Sin\'s dominion flee, \nCall to mind Gethsemane. \n\n\n\nGETHSEMANE. \n\n\n\n173 \n\n\n\nEden, from each flowery bed, \n\nDid for man short sweetness breathe ; \n\nSoon, by Satan\'s counsel led, \n\nMan wrought sin, and sin wrought death : \n\nBut of life the healing tree \n\nGrows in rich Gethsemane. \n\nHither, Lord, thou didst resort \nOfttimes with thy little train ; \nHere wouldst keep thy private court : \nOh ! confer that grace again ; \nLord, resort with worthless me \nOfttimes to Gethsemane. \n\nTrue, I can\'t deserve to share \nIn a favor so divine ; \nBut, since sin first fixed thee there. \nNone have greater sins than mine ; \nAnd to this, my woful plea, \nWitness thou, Gethsemane ! \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nSins against a holy God, \nSins against his righteous laws. \nSins against his love, his blood, \nSins against his name and cause, \xe2\x80\x94 \nSins immense as is the sea : \nHide me, O Gethsemane ! \n\n\n\n\'74 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nSaviour ! all the stone remove \nFrom my flinty, frozen heart ; \nThaw it with the beams of love, \nPierce it with thy mercy\'s dart ; \nWound the heart that wounded thee ; \nBreak it in Gethsemane. \n\nJoseph Hart. \n\n\n\nA Meditation in Sickness. \n\nWHEN languor and disease invade \nThis trembling house of clay, \n\'Tis sweet to look beyond our cage, \nAnd long to fly away ; \n\nSweet to look inward, and attend \n\nThe whispers of His love ; \nSweet to look upward to the place \n\nWhere Jesus pleads above ; \n\nSweet to look back, and see my name \nIn Life\'s fair book set down ; \n\nSweet to look forward, and behold \nEternal joys my own ; \n\nSweet to reflect how grace divine \n\nMy sins on Jesus laid ; \nSweet to remember that his blood \n\nMy debt of sufferings paid ; \n\n\n\nA MEDITA TION IN SICKNESS. \n\nSweet on his righteousness to stand, \nWhich saves from second death ; \n\nSweet to experience, day by day, \nHis Spirit\'s quickening breath ; \n\nSweet on his faithfulness to rest, \nWhose love can never end ; \n\nSweet on his covenant of grace \nFor all things to depend ; \n\nSweet, in the confidence of faith, \nTo trust his firm decrees ; \n\nSweet to lie passive in his hand, \nAnd know no will but his ; \n\nSweet to rejoice in lively hope, \n\nThat, when my change shall come, \n\nAngels will hover round my bed, \nAnd waft my spirit home. \n\nThen shall my disimprisoned soul \n\nBehold him, and adore ; \nBe with his likeness satisfied, \n\nAnd grieve and sin no more : \n\nShall see him wear that very flesh \nOn which my guilt was lain ; \n\nHis love intense, his merit fresh, \nAs though but newly slain. \n\n\n\n175 \n\n\n\n176 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nSoon, too, my slumbering dust shall hear \nThe trumpet\'s quickening sound, \n\nAnd, by my Saviour\'s power rebuilt, \nAt his right hand be found. \n\nThese eyes shall see him in that day. \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe God that died for me ; \nAnd all my rising bones shall say, \n\n" Lord, who is like to thee ? " \n\nIf such the views which grace unfolds, \n\nWeak as it is below, \nWhat raptures must the Church above \n\nIn Jesus\' presence know ! \n\nIf such the sweetness of the stream, \n\nWhat must the fountain be, \nWhere saints and angels draw their bliss \n\nImmediately from thee ! \n\nOh, may the unction of these truths \n\nForever with me stay, \nTill, from her sinful cage dismissed, \n\nMy spirit flies away ! \n\nAugustus M. Toplady. \n\n\n\n\'COME AND SEE:\' \n\n\n\n177 \n\n\n\n" Come and See." \n\nMASTER, where abidest thou ? \nLamb of God, \'tis thee we seek : \nFor the wants which press us now \n\nOther aid is all too weak. \nCanst thou take our sins away ? \nMay we find repose in thee ? \nFrom the gracious lips to-day, \n\nAs of old, breathes, " Come and see." \n\nMaster, where abidest thou ? \n\nWe would leave the past behind ; \nWe would scale the mountain\'s brow, \n\nLearning more thy heavenly mind. \nStill a look is all our lore, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe transforming look to thee : \nFrom the Living Truth once more \n\nBreathes the answer, " Come and see." \n\nMaster, where abidest thou ? \n\nHow shall we thine image best \nBear in light upon our brow, \n\nStamp in love upon our breast ? \nStill a look is all our might : \n\nLooking draws the heart to thee ; \nSends us from the absorbing sight \n\nWith the message, "Come and see." \n\n\n\ni HYMXS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nMaster, where abidest thou ? \n\nAll the springs of life are low ; \nSin and grief our spirits bow ; \n\nAnd we wait thy call to go. \nFrom the depths of happy rest \n\nWhere the just abide with thee, \nFrom the Voice which makes them blest, \n\nComes the summons, i; Come and see." \n\nChristian, tell it to thy brother, \n\nFrom life\'s dawning to its end, \xe2\x80\x94 \nEvery hand may clasp another, \n\nAnd the loneliest bring a friend, \nTill the veil is drawn aside, \n\nAnd, from where her home shall be, \nBursts upon the enfranchised Bride \n\nThe triumphant " Come and see ! ? \' \n\nAuthor of "The Cotta Family." \n\n\n\nThe Inner Calm. \n\nCALM me. my God, and keep me calm, \nWhile these hot breezes blow ; \nBe like the night-dew\'s cooling balm \nUpon earth\'s fevered brow. \n\n\n\nTHE INNER CALM. \n\n\n\n179 \n\n\n\nCalm me, my God, and keep me calm, \n\nSoft resting on thy breast ; \nSoothe me with holy hymn and psalm, \n\nAnd bid my spirit rest. \n\nCalm me, my God, and keep me calm : \n\nLet thine outstretched wing- \nBe like the shade of Elim\'s palm \n\nBeside her desert spring. \n\nYes, keep me calm, though loud and rude \nThe sounds my ear that greet, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nCalm in the closet\'s solitude ; \nCalm in the bustling street ; \n\nCalm in the hour of buoyant health ; \n\nCalm in my hour of pain ; \nCalm in my poverty or wealth ; \n\nCalm in my loss or gain ; \n\nCalm in the sufferance of wrong, \n\nLike Him who bore my shame ; \nCalm \'mid the threatening, taunting throng \n\nWho hate thy holy name ; \n\nCalm when the great world\'s news with power \n\nMy listening spirit stir, \xe2\x80\x94 \nLet not the tidings of the hour \n\nE\'er find too fond an ear ; \n\n\n\n180 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nCalm as the ray of sun or star \n. Which storms assail in vain, \nMoving unruffled through earth\'s war, \nThe eternal calm to gain. \n\nHORATIUS BONAR. \n\n\n\nThe Fellowship of Saints. \n\nHOW blest the sacred tie that binds, \nIn union sweet, according minds ! \nHow swift the heavenly course they run \nWhose hearts, whose faith, whose hopes, are \n\n\n\nTo each the soul of each how dear ! \nWhat jealous love ! what holy fear ! \nHow r doth the generous flame within \nRefine from earth, and cleanse from sin ! \n\nTheir streaming tears together flow \nFor human guilt and mortal woe ; \nTheir ardent prayers together rise \nLike mingling flames in sacrifice. \n\nTogether both they seek the place \nWhere God- reveals his awful face : \nHow high, how strong, their raptures swell, \nThere\'s none but kindred souls can tell. \n\n\n\nTHE LORD\'S DAY. \\ \n\nNor shall the glowing flame expire \nWhen Nature droops her sickening fire ; \nThen shall they meet in realms above, \xe2\x80\x94 \nA heaven of joy, a heaven of love. \n\nAnna L^etitia Barbauld. \n\n\n\nThe Lord\'s Day. \n\nOTIME of tranquil joy and holy feeling, \nWhen over earth God\'s Spirit from abov" \nSpreads out his wings of love ; \nWhen sacred thoughts, like angels, come ap- \npealing \nTo our tent-doors ! O eve ! to earth and heaven \nThe sweetest of the seven. \n\nHow peaceful are thy skies ! thy air is clearer, \nAs on the advent of a gracious time. \n\nThe sweetness of its prime \nBlesseth the world, and Eden\'s days seem \n\nnearer : \nI hear, in each faint stirring of the breeze, \n\nGod\'s voice among the trees. \n\nOh ! while the hallowed moments are distilling \nTheir fresher influence on my heart like dews, \nThe chamber where I muse \n\n\n\n1 82 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nTurns to a temple. He, whose converse thrill- \ning \nHonored Emmaus that old eventide, \nComes sudden to my side. \n\n\'Tis light at evening-time when thou art pres- \nent : \nThy coming to the Eleven in that dim room \n\nBrightened, O Christ ! its gloom. \nSo bless my lonely hour, that memories pleasant \nAround the time a heavenly gleam may cast, \n\nWhich many days shall last. \n\nRaise each low aim, refine each high emotion, \nThat with more ardent footstep I may press \n\nToward thy holiness ; \nAnd, braced for sacred duty by devotion, \nSupport my cross along that rugged road \n\nWhich thou hast sometime trod. \n\nI long to see thee ; for my heart is wean*. \nOh ! when, my Lord, in kindness wilt thor \ncome \nTo call thy banished home ? \nThe scenes are cheerless, and the clays are \n\ndreary : . \nFrom sorrow and from sin I would be free, \nAnd evermore with thee. \n\n\n\nPANTING FOR JESUS. 183 \n\nEven now I see the golden city shining \n\nUp the blue depths of that transparent air : \nHow happy all is there ! \n\nThere breaks a day which never knows de- \nclining ; \n\nA sabbath, through whose circling hours the \n\nblest \n\nBeneath thy shadow rest. \n\nJames D. Burns. \n\n\n\nPanting for Jesus. \n\nMY soul, amid this stormy world, \nIs like some fluttered dove, \nAnd fain would be as swift of wing \nTo flee to Him I love. \n\nThe cords that bound my heart to earth \n\nAre broken by His hand : \nBefore His cross I found myself \n\nA stranger in the land. \n\nThat visage marred, those sorrows deep, \n\nThe vinegar and gall, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThese were His golden chains of love \n\nHis captive to inthrall. \n\n\n\n184, HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nMy heart is with Him on His throne, \n\nAnd ill can brook delay ; \nEach moment listening for the voice, \n\n*\' Rise up, and come away ! " \n\nWith hope deferred, oft sick and faint, \n" Why tarries He ? " I cry : \n\nLet not the Saviour chide my haste ; \nFor then would I reply, \n\n" May not an exile, Lord, desire \nHis own sweet land to see ? \n\nMay not a captive seek release ? \nA prisoner, to be free ? \n\n" A child, when far away, may long \nFor home and kindred dear : \n\nAnd she that waits her absent Lord \nMay sigh till he appear. \n\n" I would, my Lord and Saviour, know \nThat which no measure knows ; \n\nWould search the mystery of thy love, \nThe depth of all thy woes. \n\n" I fain would strike my harp divine \nBefore the Father\'s throne, \n\nThere cast my crown of righteousness, \nAnd sing what grace has done. \n\n\n\n"MV HEART FAILETH." 185 \n\n"Ah ! leave me not in this base world, \n\nA stranger still to roam : \nCome, Lord, and take me to thyself; \n\nCome, Jesus, quickly come ! " \n\nRobert C. Chapman. \n\n\n\n" My Flesh and my Heart faileth." \n\nIN weakness at Thy feet I lie : \nThine eye each pang hath seen. \nScarce can I lift my heart on high ; \nYet, Lord, on thee 1 lean, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nLean on thy sure, unfailing word, \n\nThy gentle " It is I ; " \nFor thou, my ever-living Lord, \n\nKnow\'st what it is to die. \n\nThou wilt be with me when 1 go, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThy life my life in death ; \nFor, in the lowest depths, I know \n\nThine arms are underneath. \n\n\'Tis not the infant\'s feeble grasp \nWhich holds the mother fast : \n\nIt is the mother\'s gentle clasp \nAround her darling cast. \n\n\n\n1 86 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nJust so thy child would cling to thee, \n\nKnowing thy pity long ; \nFor, feeble as my faith may be, \n\nThy hand I clasp it strong. \n\nAuthor of " The Cotta Family." \n\n\n\nHVMN FOR THE HOLY COMMUNION. \n\nAT this thy banquet, Lord of all, \nMay less than angel dare to sup ? \nThe crumbs that from thy table fall \nUnworthy we to gather up. \n\nYet, oh ! too poor to turn away, \n\nToo glad to own thy gracious claim, \n\nWe stay because thou bid\'st us stay, \nDespite our garb of want and shame. \n\nBefore thine altar kneeling low, \nWe bare our sinful hands to thine : \n\nO holy Lord ! thy pity show, \n\nAnd cleanse us with thy touch divine. \n\nFill thou these empty palms with food, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe bread thou broughtest from above ; \n\nThis cup with thy most precious blood, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe wine of thy atoning love. \n\n\n\nA PRAYER TO CHRIST. 187 \n\nThe hunger and the thirst we plead \nNo meaner feast could satisfy : \n\nO Saviour ! in our utter need, \n\nThou, thou must feed us, or we die ! \n\nHarriet McEwen Kimball. \n\n\n\nA Prayer to Christ. \n\nI THIRST, thou wounded Lamb of God, \nTo wash me in thy cleansing blood ; \nTo dwell within thy wounds : then pain \nIs sweet, and life or death is gain. \n\nTake my poor heart, and let it be \nForever closed to all but thee ; \nSeal thou my breast, and let me wear \nThat pledge of love forever there. \n\nHow blest are they who still abide \nClose sheltered in thy bleeding side ; \nWho life and strength from thence derive, \nAnd by thee move, and in thee live ! \n\nWhat are our works but sin and death, \nTill thou thy quickening Spirit breathe ? \nThou giv\'st the power thy grace to move : \nOh wondrous grace ! oh boundless love ! \n\n\n\n88 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE \n\nHow can it be, thou heavenly King, \nThat thou sbouldst us to glory bring ; \nMake slaves the partners of thy throne, \nDecked with a never-fading crown ? \n\nHence our hearts melt ; our eyes o\'erflow ; \nOur words are lost ; nor will we know \nNor will we think of aught beside, \xe2\x80\x94 \nu My Lord, my Love, is crucified." \n\nAh, Lord ! enlarge our scanty thought \nTo know the wonders thou hast wrought ; \nUnloose our stammering tongues to tell \nThy love immense, unsearchable. \n\nFirst-born of many brethren thou ! \nTo thee, lo ! all our souls we bow ; \nTo thee our hearts and hands we give : \nThine may we die, thine may we live. \n\nFrom Dessler, by Weslev \n\n\n\nWalk in the Light. \n\nWALK in the light ; so shalt thou know \nThat fellowship of love \nHis Spirit only can bestow \nWho reigns in lisrht above. \n\n\n\nTHINGS HOPED FOR, 189 \n\nWalk in the light, and thou shalt find \n\nThy heart made truly His \nWho dwells in cloudless light enshrined, \n\nIn whom no darkness is. \n\nWalk in the light, and sin abhorred \n\nShall ne\'er defile again : \nThe blood of Jesus Christ the Lord \n\nShall cleanse from every sin. \n\nWalk in the light, and e\'en the tomb \n\nNo fearful shade shall wear : \nGlory shall chase away its gloom ; \n\nFor Christ hath conquered there. \n\nWalk in the light, and thou shalt see \nThy path, though thorny, bright ; \n\nFor God by grace shall dwell in thee, \nAnd God himself is light. \n\n\n\nThings hoped for. \n\nTHESE are the crowns that we shall \nwear \nWhen all thy saints are crowned ; \nThese are the palms that we shall bear \nOn yonder holy ground. \n\n\n\n190 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nFar off as yet, reserved in heaven, \n\nAbove the veiling sky, \nThey sparkle, like the stars of even, \n\nTo hope\'s far-piercing eye. \n\nThese are the robes, unsoiled and white, \nWhich then we shall put on, \n\nWhen, foremost \'mong the sons of light, \nWe sit on yonder throne. \n\nThat city with the jewelled crest, \n\nLike some new-lighted sun, \nA blaze of burning amethyst, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nTen thousand orbs in one, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThat is the city of the saints, \nWhere we so soon shall stand, \n\nWhen we shall strike these desert-tents, \nAnd quit this desert-sand. \n\nThese are the everlasting hills, \nWith summits bathed in day : \n\nThe slopes down which the living rills, \nSoft-lapsing, take their way. \n\nFair vision, how thy distant gleam \nBrightens time\'s saddest hue ! \n\nFar fairer than the fairest dream, \nAnd yet so strangely true ! \n\n\n\nTHINGS HOPED FOR. \n\nFair vision, how thou liftest up \nThe drooping brow and eye ! \n\nWith the calm joy of thy sure hope \nFixing our souls on high. \n\n\n\nThy light makes even the darkest page \nIn memory\'s scroll grow fair ; \n\nBlanching the lines which tears and age \nHad only deepened there. \n\nWith thee in view, the rugged slope \n\nBecomes a level way, \nSmoothed by the magic of thy hope, \n\nAnd gladdened by thy ray. \n\nWith thee in view, how poor appear \nThe world\'s most winning smiles ! \n\nVain is the Tempter\'s subtlest snare, \nAnd vain hell\'s varied wiles. \n\nTime\'s glory fades ; its beauty now \nHas ceased to lure or blind : \n\nEach gay enchantment here below \nHas lost its power to bind. \n\nThen welcome toil and care and pain ! \n\nAnd welcome sorrow too ! \nAll toil is rest, all grief is gain, \n\nWith such a prize in view. \n\n\n\n191 \n\n\n\nIQ2 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nCome, crown and throne ! come, robe and palm ! \n\nBurst forth, glad stream of peace ! \nCome, holy city of the Lamb ! \n\nRise, Sun of Righteousness ! \n\nWhen shall the clouds that v\xc2\xabeil thy rays \n\nForever be withdrawn ? \nWhy dost thou tarry, day of days ? \n\nWhen shall thy gladness dawn ? \n\nHORATIUS BONAR. \n\n\n\nAll Things are Yours. \n\nMINE ! \xe2\x80\x94 What rays of glory bright \nNow upon *Le promise shine ! \nI have found the Lord my light ; \nI am his, and he is mine. \n\nMine / \xe2\x80\x94 the promise often read, \nNow in living truth impressed, \nOnce acknowledged in the head, \nNow a fire within the breast. \n\nMine no more the crimson stains. \xe2\x80\x94 \nHere I see them blotted out ; \nMine no more the bonds and chains ; \nMine no more the fear and doubt. \n\n\n\nALL THINGS ARE YOURS. ig$ \n\nMine acceptance at the throne ; \nMine the Father\'s owning smile ; \nMine the Fathers love unknown, \xe2\x80\x94 - \nWhat shall from that love beguile ? \n\nMine the yoke that\'s lined with love ; \nMine the imputed righteousness ; \nMine the armor for the fight ; \nMine the way of holiness. \n\nMine the mighty Paraclete : \nSuch a weight of glory\'s given \nUnto me ! \xe2\x80\x94 a worm like me ! \xe2\x80\x94 \nHere in part, the whole in heaven. \n\nMine ! \xe2\x80\x94 though oft my hand may fail, \nHe is strong, and holds me fast ; \nHis dear blood shall still prevail ; \nHe shall lead me home at last. \n\nMine ! \xe2\x80\x94 When death the bars shall break \n\n\'Mid the glories all divine, \n\nu Satisfied " I shall awake, \n\nClasp his feet, and call him mine f \n\nE. Z. B. \n13 \n\n\n\nX(j4 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nLook, and be saved. \n\nTHERE is life for a look at the Crucified \nOne; \nThere is life at this moment for thee : \nThen look, sinner, look unto Him, and be saved ; \nUnto Him who was nailed to the tree. \n\nOh ! why was he there as the bearer of sin, \nIf on him all thy sins were not laid ? \n\nOh ! why from his side flowed the sin-cleansing \nblood, \nIf his dying thy debt hath not paid ? \n\nIt is not thy tears of repentance or prayers, \nBut the blood, that atones for the soul : \n\nOn Him, then, who shed it, thou mayest at once \nThy weight of iniquities roll. \n\nHis anguish of soul on the cross hast thou \nseen ? \n\nHis cry of distress hast thou heard ? \nThen why, if the terrors of wrath he endured, \n\nShould pardon to thee be deferred ? \n\nThou art healed by his stripes, (wouldst thou \nadd to the word ?) \nAnd he is thy righteousness made ; \n\n\n\n\'PERFECT IN LOVE: \n\n\n\n195 \n\n\n\nThe best robe of heaven he bids thee put on : \nSay, co aids t thou be better arrayed ? \n\nThen doubt not thy pardon, since God has de- \nclared \n\nThere remaineth no more to be done ; \nThat once in the end of the world he appeared, \n\nAnd completed the work he begun : \n\nBut take with rejoicing from Jesus at once \n\nThe life everlasting he gives ; \nAnd know with assurance thou never canst die, \n\nSince Jesus thy righteousness lives. \n\nThere is life for a look at the Crucified One ; \n\nThere is life at this moment for thee : \nThen look, sinner, look unto him, and be saved, \n\nAnd know thyself spotless as he. \n\n\n\n" Perfect in Love." \n\n" T)ERFECT in love ! " \xe2\x80\x94 Lord, can it be, \nJ- Amidst this state of doubt and sin, \xe2\x80\x94 \nWhile foes so thick without I see, \n\nWith weakness, pain, disease, within, \xe2\x80\x94 \nCan perfect love inhabit here, \nAnd, strong in faith, extinguish fear ? \n\n\n\n196 hymns of the higher life. \n\nO Lord ! amidst this mental night, \n\nAmidst the clouds of dark dismay, \nArise ! arise ! shed forth thy light, \nAnd kindle love\'s meridian day. \nMy Saviour God, to me appear ; \nSo love shall triumph over fear. \n\n\n\nThe River of Life. \n\nTHERE is a pure and peaceful wave \nThat rolls around the throne of love, \nWhose waters gladden as they lave \nThe peaceful shores above. \n\nWhile streams which on that tide depend \nSteal from those heavenly shores away, \nAnd on this desert world descend, \nO\'er weary lands to stray, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe pilgrim, faint, and nigh to sink \nBeneath his load of earthly woe, \nRefreshed beside their verdant brink, \nRejoices in their flow. \n\nThere, O my soul ! do thou repair, \nAnd hover o\'er the hallowed spring, \n\n\n\nr 9 7 \n\n\n\nTHE PEACE OF GOD. \n\nTo :lrkik the crystal wave, and there \nTo lave thy wearied wing. \n\nThere droop that wing when far it flies \nFrom human care and toil and strife, \nAnd feed by those still streams that rise \nBeneath the tree of life. \n\n\n\nIt may be that the waft of love \nSome leaves on that pure tide has driven, \nWhich, passing from the shores above, \nHave floated down from heaven. \n\nSo shall thy wounds and woes be healed \nBy the blest virtue that they bring ; \nSo thy parched lips shall be unsealed, \nThy Saviour\'s praise to sing. \n\n\n\nThe Peace of God. \n\nWE ask for peace, O Lord ! \nThy children ask thy peace : \nNot what the world calls rest ; \n\nThat toil and care should cease ; \nThat through bright, sunny hours \nCalm life should fleet awav. \n\n\n\nI98 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nAnd tranquil night should fade \n\nIn smiling day : \n\nIt is not for such peace that we would pray. \n\nWe ask for peace, O Lord ! \n\nYet not to stand secure, \nGirt round with iron pride, \n\nContented to endure, \nCrushing the gentle strings \n\nThat human hearts should know, \nUntouched by others\' joys \nOr others\' woe : \nThou, O dear Lord ! wilt never teach us so. \n\nWe ask thy peace, O Lord ! \n\nThrough storm and fear and strife \nTo light and guide us on \n\nThrough a long, struggling life, \nWhile no success or gain \n\nShall cheer the desperate fight, \nOr nerve what the world calls \nOur wasted might, \nYet pressing through the darkness to the light. \n\nIt is thine own, O Lord ! \n\nWho toil while others sleep ; \nWho sow with loving care \n\nWhat other hands shall reap : \n\n\n\n"THY WILL BE DONE:" 199 \n\nThey lean on thee, entranced \n\nIn calm and perfect rest. \nGive us that peace, O Lord ! \nDivine and blest, \nThou keepest for those hearts who love thee best \n\nA. A Procter. \n\n\n\n" Thy Will be done." \n\nONLY silently resigned \nTo the counsels of Thy mind ; \nWilling, yet rejoicing not, \nThat Thy purpose shall be wrought : \n\nIs this truly to submit ? \nFolding placid hands, to sit, \nWhile innumerable feet \nThy triumphant coming meet ? \n\nShall we say, " Thy will be done," \nAnd on our own errands run ? \nVain and evil the design \nWe pursue apart from Thine. \n\nTeach us how to live this prayer ; \nReverently Thy plans to share ; \nMore than echoes of Thy voice, \nMake us partners in Thy choice. \n\n\n\n200 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nLift us up to catch from Thee \nWorld-encircling sympathy ; \nArdor, strength, and courage give ; \nAs Thou livest, let us live. \n\nLet our deeds be syllables \n\nOf the prayer our spirit swells ; \n\nIn us Thy desire fulfil ; \n\nBy us work Thy gracious will. \n\nLucy Larcom. \n\n\n\n"Take up thy Cross, and follow Me." \n\nTHE way seems long, dear Leader; and my \nfeet \nAre weary, pressing oft these thorns. \'Twere \n\nsweet, \nMethinks, to rest. This heavy cross remove : \nThou surely need\'st not thus my love to prove. \n" Rest not, weak heart, nor lay thy burden \n\ndown : \nFor earth\'s short rest wouldst lose thy heavenly \n\ncrown ? " \n\nThe way is dark, dear Leader ; mists arise \nThat hide thy blessed presence from my eyes : \n\n\n\n"TAKE UP THY CROSS." 201 \n\nI stumble on this lonely mountain wild : \n\nloving Father ! spare me, spare thy child. \n\n" Dost hear my voice ? Then follow as I bade : \nThou\'rt safe if firm on me thy trust is stayed." \n\nBut I am faint, dear Leader, and I sink ; \n\n" My steps are well-nigh gone ; " upon the brink \n\n1 helpless fall : put forth thy mighty power, \nAnd save me, loving Father, in this hour. \n\n" Drink freely of the brook that floweth by ; \nThen lift thy head, \xe2\x80\x94 thy Leader still is nigh." \n\nAnd must it thus, dear Leader, ever be ? \nAnd may we here no resting-place e\'er see ? \nThough faint and weary, light or dark the way, \nPress forward e\'en to reach heaven\'s blessed \n\nday ? \n" Enough that, as the Master, thou shouldst \n\nlive : \nFaithful to death, thou shalt the crown receive." \n\nOnward, dear Jesus ! safely by thee led, \n\n" Faint, yet pursuing," still the path I\'ll tread : \n\nGird me with strength, then all my prayer shall \n\nbe, \n" Father, e\'en so ; it seemeth good to thee." \n"And, as thy days, thy strength shall ever be ; \nWhile heaven\'s eternal glory waiteth thee." \n\n\n\n202 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n\n\nSummer in the Soul. \n\nAUTUMN was on the earth, \nWhen Summer came to me, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe " Summer in the soul," \xe2\x80\x94 \nAnd set the life-springs free. \n\nDarkness was on my life, \n\nA heavy weight of night, \nWhen the Sun arose within, \n\nAnd filled my heart with light. \n\nIce lay upon my heart, \nIce-fetters still and strong, \n\nW 7 hen the living spring gushed forth, \nAnd filled my soul with song. \n\nThat Summer shall not fade ; \n\nThat Sun it setteth never ; \nThe fountain in my heart \n\nSprings full and fresh forever. \n\nSince I have learned thy love, \nMy Summer, Lord, thou art, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nSummer to me, and day, \n\nAnd life-springs in my heart. \n\n\n\nSUMMER IN THE SOUL. \n\nSince I have learned thou art. \nThou livest, and art love, \n\nArt love, and lovest me, \nFearless I look above. \n\nThy blood blots out my sin ; \n\nThy love casts out my fear : \nHeaven is no longer far, \n\nSince thou, its Sun, art near. \n\nHere thou abid\'st awhile, \nHere in the night with me : \n\nSoon thou wilt take me home, \xe2\x80\x94 \nHome to thy light, with thee, \n\nWhere is no night, nor eyes \n\nWhich, w r eeping, long for night : \n\nEyes whence thou wip\'st the tears \nCan bear thy cloudless light. \n\nSummer, life-fountains, day, \n\nWithin, around, above, \nWhere we shall see thy face, \n\nWhere we shall feel thy love ! \n\nAuthor of "The Cotta Family." \n\n\n\n203 \n\n\n\n204 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n\n\nB \n\n\n\nPress On. \n\nE brave, my brother ! \nFight the good fight of faith \n\nWith weapons proved and true ; \nBe faithful and unshrinking to the death ; \n\nThy God will bear thee through. \nThe strife is terrible ; \n\nYet \'tis not, \'tis not long : \nThe foe is not invincible, \n\nThough fierce and strong. \n\n\n\nBe brave, my brother ! \n\nThe recompense is great, \n\nThe kingdom bright and fair : \nBeyond the glory of all earthly state \n\nShall be the glory there. \nGrudge not the heavy cost, \n\nFaint not ai labor here ; \n\'Tis but a life-time at the most : \n\nThe day of rest is near. \n\nBe brave, my brother ! \n\nHe whom thou servest slights \n\nNot even His weakest one ; \nNo deed, though poor, shall be forgot, \n\nHowever feebly done : \n\n\n\nPXJ5SS ON. \n\n\n\n205 \n\n\n\nThe prayer, the wish, the thought, \n\nThe faintly-spoken word, \nThe plan that seemed to come to nought, \n\nEach has its own reward. \n\nBe brave, my brother ! \n\nEnlarge thy heart and soul ; \n\nSpread out thy free, glad love ; \nEncompass earth, embrace the sea, \n\nAs does the sky above : \nLet no man see thee stand \n\nIn. slothful idleness, \nAs if there were no work for thee \n\nIn such a wilderness. \n\nBe brave, my brother ! \n\nStint not the liberal hand ; \n\nGive in the joy of love : \nSo shall thy crown be bright, and great \n\nThy recompense above ; \nReward, not like the deed, \n\nThat poor, weak deed, of thine, \nBut: like the God himself who gives, \n\nEternal and divine. \n\nHORATIUS BONAR. \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n\n\nThe Promise of Sanctificatiok". \n\nGOD of all power and truth and grace, \nWhich shall from age to age endure ; \nWhose word, when heaven and earth shall \npass. \nRemains and stands forever sure, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nCalmly to thee my soul looks up, \nAnd waits thy promises to prove, \n\nThe object of my steadfast hope, \nThe seal of thine eternal love. \n\nThat I thy mercy may proclaim. \n\nThat all mankind thy truth may see, \n\nHallow thy great and glorious name, \nAnd perfect holiness in me. \n\nChose from the world if now I stand, \nAdorned in righteousness divine ; \n\nH, brought into, the promised land, \nI justly call the Saviour mine, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nPerform the work thou hast begun ; \n\nMy inmost soul to thee convert ; \nLove me, forever love thine own ; \n\nAnd sprinkle with thy blood my heart. \n\n\n\nPROMISE OF SANCTIFICATIO.V. 207 \n\nThy sanctifying Spirit pour, \n\nTo quench my thirst and wash me clean : \nNow, Father, let the gracious shower \n\nDescend and make me pure from sin. \n\nPurge me from every sinful blot ; \n\nMy idols all be cast aside ; \nCleanse me from every evil thought, \n\nFrom all the filth of self and pride. \n\nGive me a new and perfect heart, \n\nFrom doubt and fear and sorrow free ; \n\nThe mind which was in Christ impart, \nAnd let my spirit cleave to thee. \n\nOh ! take this heart of stone away. \xe2\x80\x94 \n(Thy rule it doth not, can not, own ;) \n\nIn me no longer let it stay : \nOh ! take away this heart of stone. \n\nThe hatred of my carnal mind \nOut of my flesh at once remove ; \n\nGive me a tender heart, resigned \n\nAnd pure, and filled with faith and love. \n\nWithin me thy good Spirit place, \xe2\x80\x94 \nSpirit of health and love and power, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nPlant in me thy victorious grace, \nAnd sin shall never enter more. \n\n\n\n2 08 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE \n\nCause me to walk in Christ my Way, \nAnd I thy statutes shall fulfil, \n\nIn every point thy law obey. \nAnd perfectly perform thy will. \n\nHast thou not said, who canst not lie, \n\nThat I thy law shall keep and do ? \nLord. I believe, though men deny : \nThey all are false ; but thou art true. \n\nOh that I now. from sin released. \n\nThy word might to the utmost prove ; \nEnter into the promised rest, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe Canaan of thy perfect love ! \n\nThere let me ever, ever dwell : \nBe thou my God, and I will be \n\nThy servant. Oh ! set to thy seal ; \nGive me eternal life in thee. \n\nFrom all remaining filth within \nLet me in thee salvation have : \n\nFrom actual and from inbred sin \nMy ransomed soul persist to save. \n\nWash out my old original stain : \nTell me no more, " It cannot be/\' \n\nDemons or men ! The Lamb was slain ; \nHis blood was all poured out for me ! \n\n\n\nPROMISE OF SANCTIFICATIJN. 209 \n\nSprinkle it, Jesus, on my heart : \n\nOne drop of thine all-cleansing blood \n\nShall make my sinfulness depart, \nAnd fill me with the life of God. \n\nFather, supply my every need ; \n\nSustain the life thyself hast given ; \nCall for the corn, the living bread, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nThe manna that comes down from heaven. \n\nThe gracious fruits of righteousness, \nThy blessings\' unexhausted store, \n\nIn me abundantly increase ; \nNor let me ever hunger more. \n\nLet me no more, in deep complaint, \n" My leanness, oh ! my leanness," cry, \n\nAlone consumed with pining want, \nOf all my Father\'s children, I ! \n\nThe painful thirst, the fond desire, \nThy joyous presence shall remove ; \n\nWhile my full soul doth still require \nThe whole eternity of love. \n\nHoly and true and righteous Lord, \nI want to prove thy perfect will : \n\nBe mindful of thy gracious word, \nAnd stamp me with thy Spirit\'s seal. \n\n\n\n2IO \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nThy faithful mercy let me find, \n\nIn which thou causest me to trust ; \n\nGive me thy meek and lowly mind, \nAnd lay my spirit in the dust. \n\nShow me how foul my heart hath been, \nWhen all renewed by grace I am : \n\nWhen thou hast emptied me of sin, \nShow me the fulness of my shame. \n\nOpen my faith\'s interior eve, \nDisplay thy glory from above, \n\nAnd all I am shall sink and die, \nLost in astonishment and love. \n\nConfound, o\'erpower me with thy grace ; \n\nI would be by myself abhorred : \n(All might, all majesty, all praise, \n\nAll glory, be to Christ my Lord ! ) \n\nNow let me gain perfection\'s height ; \n\nNow let me into nothing fall, \xe2\x80\x94 \nBe less than nothing in thy sight; \n\nAnd feel that Christ is all in all. \n\nCharles \\Y esley. \n\n\n\ncloser to thee. 21 1 \n\nCloser to Thee. \n\nSAVIOUR ! I follow on, \nGuided by thee, \nSeeing not yet the Hand \n\nThat leadeth me. \n\nHushed be my heart, and still ; \n\nFear I no further ill : \n\nOnly to meet thy will \n\nMy will shall be. \n\nRiven the rock for me, \n\nThirst to relieve ; \nManna from heaven falls, \n\nFresh every eve : \nNever a want severe \nCauseth my eye a tear, \nBut thou dost whisper near, \n\n" Only believe ! " \n\nOften to Marah\'s brink \n\nHave I been brought ; \nShrinking the cup to drink, \n\nHelp I have sought ; \nAnd, with the prayer\'s ascent, \nJesus the branch hath rent, \nQuickly relief hath sent, \n\nSweetening the draught \n\n\n\n212 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nSaviour ! I long to walk \n\nCloser with thee ; \nLed by thy guiding hand \n\nEver to be ; \nConstantly near thy side, \nQuickened and purified, \nLiving for Him who died \nFreely for me. \n\nC. S. ROBINFON. \n\n\n\nCome, Jesus ; and come quickly. \n\nJESUS, I love. Come, dearest name! \nCome, and possess this heart of mine : \nI love, though \'tis a fainter flame, \nAnd infinitely less than thine. \n\nOh ! if my Lord would leave the skies. \nDressed in the rays of mildest grace. \nMy soul would hasten to my eyes \nTo meet the pleasures of his face. \n\nHow would I feast on all his charms, \nThen round his lovely feet intwine ! \nWorship and love, in all their forms, \nShould honor beauty- so divine. \n\n\n\nOVER IHF SUNSET SEA. \n\n\n\n213 \n\n\n\nIn vain the Tempter\'s flattering tongue ; \nThe world in vain should bid me move, \xe2\x80\x94 \nIn vain ; for I should gaze so long, \nTill I were all transformed to love. \n\nThen, mighty God ! I\'d sing and say, \n" What empty names are crowns and kings ! \nAmong them give these worlds away, \xe2\x80\x94 \nThese little despicable things." \n\nI would not ask to climb the sky, \nNor envy angels their abode : \nI have a heaven as bright and high \nIn the blest vision of my God. \n\nIsaac Watts. \n\n\n\nOver the Sunset Sea. \n\nLAST night an arrow of light fell down \nAt the feet of a sad, earth-weary one, \nWhose prayer was ever, in sorrow\'s hour, \n\n" Heavenly Father, thy will be done." \nUpward she glanced at the sapphire sky ; \nThe sunset waves were rolling high ; \nAnd an angel stood on the far-off shore : \n\n\n\n214 \n\n\n\nHYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\n\n\nHe beckoned to her with his shining hand, \xe2\x80\x94 \n" I have found thee a home in the Eden land, \nWhere storms of earth are known no more : \nOur Father sent me to guide thee o\'er." \n\nThen a rainbow-bridge the angel laid \nOver the sea ; and he took her hand, \n\nAnd led her on through a golden mist, \nOver the bridge, to the Eden land. \n\nBright forms she saw, as a shower of light \n\nFell from their wings like sunbeams bright ; \n\nVoices she heard, \xe2\x80\x94 and she knew them too, \xe2\x80\x94 \n" Come to us, mamma, we\'re waiting for you, \nHere, on the shore of the sunset sea." \n\nThey opened for her the gates of gold ; \n\nThey led her up to the great white throne ; \nAnd, as she knelt at her Saviour\'s feet, \n\nHe smiled upon her, and said, "Well done ! \nThou hast followed me long in the narrow way ; \nFrom the path of duty thou didst not stray : \n\nNow thou shalt rest ; thy work is o\'er." \nAs the waves of the sunset sea grew dim, \nThe sweet stars sang their evening hymn : \nIts burden was (I can hear it still), \n\n" Watch and pray ; " and I mean to, until \n\nI, too, shall find rest on the " shining shore." \n\nCongregation alist. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS OF HOME. \n\n\n\nThoughts of Home. \n\n\n\n! *-5 \n\n\n\nI\'VE been thinking of home ; of " my Father\'s \nhouse, \nWhere the many mansions be ; " \nOf the city whose streets are paved with gold ; \nOf its jasper walls, so fair to behold, \n\nWhich the righteous alone shall see. \n\nI\'ve been thinking of home, where they need \nnot the light \n\nOf the sun, nor moon, nor star ; \nWhere the gates of pearl " are not shut by day, \nFor no night is there," but the weary may \n\nFind rest from the world afar. \n\nI\'ve been thinking of home ; of the river of life \nThat flows through the city so pure ; \n\nOf the tree that standi by the side of the stream. \n\nWhose leaves in mercy with blessings teem, \nThe sin-wounded soul to cure. \n\nI\'ve been thinking of home, of the loved ones \nthere, \n\nDear friends who have gone before, \nWith whom we walked to the death-river side, \nAnd sadly thought, as we watched the tide, \n\nOf the happy days of yore. \n\n\n\n2l6 HYMNS OF THE HIGHER LIFE. \n\nI\'ve been thinking of home ; and my heart is full \n\nOf love for the Lamb of God, \nWho his precious life as a ransom gave \nFor a sinful race, e\'en our souls to save \n\nFrom Justice\' avenging rod. \n\nI\'ve been thinking of home, and I\'m homesick \nnow : \n\nMy spirit doth long to be \nIn "the better land," where the ransomed sing \nOf the love of Christ, their Redeemer, King ; \n\nOf mercy so costly, so free. \n\nI\'ve been thinking of home, \xe2\x80\x94 yea, "home, \nsweet home ! " \n\nOh ! there may we all unite \nWith the white-robed throng, and forever raise \nTo the Triune God sweetest songs of praise \n\nWith glory and honor and might ! \n\n\n\nIndex of Subjects and Authors. \n\n\n\nSUBJECT. \n\n" Come up Hither "... \nThe Believer\'s Consecration \nThe Song of the Angels \n\nabove .... \nLooking to the Cross \nToiling all the Night \nDivine Adoption \nThe Method . . \nPrisoners of Hope \nPeace .... \nThe Indwelling Spirit . . \nI am His, and He is Mine . \nThe Soul\'s Surrender . . . \n\nWhat Then? \n\nBring the Children with You \nMy Saviour . . ... \n\nCome unto Me \n\nPrayer \n\nPentecost \n\nCreate in Me a Clean Heart \nA German Trust-song . . \nThe White Raiment . . . \nWorking with Thee . . . \n\nThe Friend \n\nNothing to Do \n\nMy Angel-dress \n\n\n\nAUTHOR. PAGE. \n\nMrs. A. B. C. Keene . . . 9 \n\nRichard Baxter 11 \n\nIsaac Watts 13 \n\nCharles Wesley 17 \n\nJohn Keble 18 \n\nMadame Guy on .... 21 \n\nGeorge Herbert 22 \n\nCharles Wesley 24 \n\nGeorge Herbert 26 \n\nThomas Toke Lynch ... 28 \n\nHenry Fra?icis Lyte ... 30 \n\nPhilip Doddridge .... 32 \n\nE.J. 33 \n\nJulia Gill 34 \n\nDora Greenwell .... 36 \n\nFrom St. Stephen .... 37 \n\nGeorge Herbert 39 \n\nJohn Keble 40 \n\nCharles Wesley 42 \n\nLampertius 47 \n\nHoratius Bo?iar .... 40 \n\nA nniversary F. G. Society . 5 1 \n\nMary CLmmer Ames . . 5.1 \n\nN.E 5; \n\nLucy Larcom .... 56 \n\n\n\n218 \n\n\n\nINDEX OF SUBJECTS. \n\n\n\nSUBJECT. \n\n\nAUTHOR. \n\n\nPAGE. \n\n\nThe Offering \n\n\nHarriet M\'Eiuen Kimball . 58 \n\n\nLet Us draw Near . . . . \n\n\nHo rat ins Bonar . . \n\n\n\xe2\x80\xa2 \xe2\x80\xa2 63 \n\n\nResignation to Christ . . . \n\n\nCharles Wesley \n\n\n. . 64 \n\n\nThoughts of Christ . . . \n\n\nBernard of Fontaine \n\n\n. . 66 \n\n\nA Little Bird I am . . . . \n\n\nMadame Guy on . . \n\n\n. . 6 7 \n\n\nForsaken, yet Hoping . . \n\n\nIsaac Watts . . . \n\n\n. . 69 \n\n\nOur Master \n\n\nJVkittier \n\n\n. . 70 \n\n\nThe Love of God .... \n\n\nF. Austin \n\n\n\xe2\x80\xa2 77 \n\n\n" When thou hast shut thy \n\n\n\n\n\n\nDoor, pray" . . . . \n\n\nMary E. Atkinson . \n\n\n\xe2\x80\xa2 73 \n\n\nChrist loved Unseen . . . \n\n\nRay Palmer . . . \n\n\n\xe2\x80\xa2 79 \n\n\n"Abide in Me, and I in \n\n\n\n\n\n\nYou" \n\n\nHarriet Beecher Stoive \n\n\n. 80 \n\n\nI have found It \n\n\nMrs. Charles, A uthor \n\n\nof \n\n\n\n\n" Cotta Family " \n\n\n. 81 \n\n\nPencil-marks in a Book of \n\n\n\n\n\n\nDevotion \n\n\nDora Greenwell . . \n\n\n\xe2\x80\xa2 83 \n\n\nThe Refuge \n\n\nCharles Wesley . . . \n\n\n\xe2\x80\xa2 84 \n\n\n"Ye did it not to Me" . . \n\n\nN. y. Observer . . . \n\n\n. 86 \n\n\nA Sacramental Hymn . . \n\n\nHoratius Bonar . . \n\n\n94 \n\n\nThe Holy Catholic Church . \n\n\nF.B.P \n\n\n\xe2\x80\xa2 95 \n\n\n"When I awake, I am still \n\n\n\n\n\n\nwith Thee " \n\n\nHarriet Beecher Stoiue \n\n\n. 98 \n\n\nThe Master\'s Invitation.. . \n\n\nA. D. F. Randolph . \n\n\n99 \n\n\nSitting at the Feet of Jesus. \n\n\nJ. H \n\n\n\n\nThe Fellowship of Suffering \n\n\nTheodore Tilton . . . \n\n\n103 \n\n\nThe Throne of Grace . . . \n\n\nMiss, Charlotte Elliott . \n\n\n. 105 \n\n\nPerfection \n\n\nFaber \n\n\n. 107 \n\n\nDraw Me to Thee .... \n\n\nM.A.W. \n\n\n109 \n\n\nJesus, the Ladder of my \n\n\n\n\n\n\nFaith ....... \n\n\nHarriet M\'Ewen Kimba \n\n\n//. 110 \n\n\nPrayer against the Power of \n\n\n\n\n\n\nSin \n\n\nCharles Wesley \n\n\n112 \n\n\nTrust \n\n\nDean of Canterbury \n\n\nUS \n\n\nNone but Thee \n\n\nAnyelus \n\n\n116 \n\n\n\nINDEX OF SUBJECTS. \n\n\n\n219 \n\n\n\nSUBJECT. \n\n\nAUTHOR. \n\n\n\n\nPAGE. \n\n\nu Not My Will, but Thine, \n\n\n\n\n\n\nbe done " \n\n\nJohn Keble ..... \n\n\nIl8 \n\n\nThe Robe of Holiness . . \n\n\nProf. T. C. Upham . . \n\n\n121 \n\n\nA Closer Walk with God \n\n\nChristian Intelligencer . \n\n\n122 \n\n\nSelf-consecration .... \n\n\nIsaac Watts .... \n\n\n124 \n\n\nTake me, O my Father ! \n\n\n\n\n\n\ntake me \n\n\nRay Palmer .... \n\n\nI2D \n\n\nThe Way, the Truth, and \n\n\n\n\n\n\nthe Life \n\n\nA uthor of" Cotta Family \' \n\n\n\' I3 7 \n\n\nIn Him we live \n\n\nHoratius Bonar . . . \n\n\n129 \n\n\nTo Yonder Side .... \n\n\nRobert Murray A\'TCheyne \n\n\n130 \n\n\nThus would I live .... \n\n\ny. H \n\n\n133 \n\n\nUnion with Christ .... \n\n\nProf. T. C. Upkam . . \n\n\n-34 \n\n\nPanting for Divine Love \n\n\nCharles Wesley . . . \n\n\n*35 \n\n\nHumble Service .... \n\n\nHarriet APE wen Kimball 13? \n\n\nForever with the Lord . . \n\n\nJames AI out gome ry . . \n\n\n-38 \n\n\nSimple Trust \n\n\nMadame Guy on . . . \n\n\n*39 \n\n\nThe Hidden Life .... \n\n\nWilliam. Cowper . . . \n\n\n141 \n\n\nThe Hour of Prayer . . . \n\n\nMiss Charlotte Elliott . \n\n\n.42 \n\n\nThe Cancelled Bond . . . \n\n\n\n\nJ 43 \n\n\nHear my Cry \n\n\nHoratius Bonar . . . \n\n\n144 \n\n\nGlory to God alone . . . \n\n\nMadame Guy on \n\n\n146 \n\n\nRejoicing in Hope .... \n\n\nCharles Wesley . . . \n\n\n148 \n\n\nThe Voyage \n\n\nAirs. Mary Maxwell . \n\n\n150 \n\n\nA Heavenly Breeze \n\n\n\n\n~S7 \n\n\nThe Gospel in the Lord\'s \n\n\n\n\n\n\nSupper \n\n\nAuthor of u Cotta Family \' \n\n\n158 \n\n\nLove to Christ, Present or \n\n\n\n\n\n\nAbsent \n\n\nIsaac Watts .... \n\n\n160 \n\n\nThe Alpine Sheep .... \n\n\nAirs. Maria Lowell \n\n\n\n\n162 \n\n\nRenouncing the World . . \n\n\nJ. Taylor. . . . \n\n\n\n\n163 \n\n\n" Surely I come quickly " . \n\n\nJohn Mason . . \n\n\n\n\n165 \n\n\nJesus \n\n\nPhilip Doddridge . \n\n\n\n\n167 \n\n\nThe Rest from Sin .... \n\n\nCharles Wesley \n\n\n\n\n168 \n\n\nGethsemane \n\n\nJoseph Hart . . \n\n\n\n\n171 \n\n\n\n2 20 INDEX OF SUBJECTS. \n\nSUBJECT. AUTHOR. \'AGE. \n\nA Meditation in Sickness . Augustus M. Toplady . . 174 \n\n" Come and See " .... Author of li Cotta Family" 177 \n\nThe Inner Calm .... Horatius Bonar . . . 17S \n\nThe Fellowship of Saints . Anna Lcetitici Barbauld . iSo \n\nThe Lord\'s Day .... James D. Bunts . . . iSr \n\nPanting for Jesus .... Robert C. CJiapm in. . . . 183 \n"My Flesh and my Heart \n\nfaileth " Author of "Cotta Family " 185 \n\nHymn for the Holy Com- \nmunion Harriet SPEwen Ki nib ill . 186 \n\nA Prayer to Christ . . . Froi?i Dessler, by JVesIt-y . 187 \n\nWalk in the Light 18S \n\nThings hoped for . . . . Horatius Bonar . . . . 189 \n\nAll Things are Yours . . E. Z B 192 \n\nLook, and be saved 154 \n\n"Perfect in Love" 195 \n\nThe River of Life 196 \n\nThe Peace of God . . . A. A. Procter 197 \n\n" Thy Will be done " . . Lzicy Larcom ... . 199 \n\'Take up thy Cross, and \n\nfollow Me " 200 \n\nSummer in the Soul . . . AutJior of \' " Cotia Family"" 202 \n\nPress On Horatius Bojuir .... 204 \n\nThe Promise of Sanctifica- \n\ntion CJuxrles Wesley 236 \n\nCloser to Thee ... C. S. Robinson 211 \n\nCome, Jesus ; and come \n\nquickly Isaac IVatts 2:2 \n\nOver the Sunset Sea . . The Congregaiionalist . . 213 \n\nThoughts of Home 215 \n\n\n\nIndex of First Lines. \n\n\n\nPAGE. \n\nAlter our child\'s untroubled breath , 162 \n\nAfter the Christian\'s tears 33 \n\nA little bird I am 67 \n\nArt thou weary? art thou languid? 37 \n\nAt this thy banquet, Lord of all 186 \n\nAutumn was on the earth 202 \n\nBe brave, my brother ! 204 \n\nBehind the hills of Naphtali 130 \n\nBlest be thy love, dear Lord 77 \n\nCalm me, my God, and keep me calm 178 \n\nCome, and rejoice with me 81 \n\nCome from the dimness of the past 52 \n\nCome, my fond, fluttering heart 163 \n\nDear Lord, thy table is outspread 99 \n\nDownward through the still air falling 9 \n\nEarth has detained me prisoner long ,3 \n\nForever with the Lord ! 138 \n\nGod of all power and truth and grace 206 \n\nGod of unfathomable love 42 \n\nGracious Spirit, dwell with me 28 \n\nHappy the hours, the golden days ........ 69 \n\n\n\n:.v ;.=\xe2\x96\xa0 . : :.";.- l:::es. \n\n\n\ni ri: gfi \n\n\xc2\xab43 \n\n. . . ix \n. . : :\xe2\x80\xa2: \n\n\n\n:.:: :\'_:r t: :\'.i:e \n\n\n\n- --\xe2\x80\xa2 - - -\'- \xe2\x80\xa2-\xe2\x96\xa0 -" =\xe2\x80\xa2;"-\xe2\x80\xa2 \xe2\x80\xa2-: \n\n-: :-- \xe2\x96\xa0 : =\xc2\xa3~-t: - -. : \n\ni: -- \xe2\x96\xa0"-:- ir: " : :i" ::\xe2\x96\xa0- \n\n\xe2\x96\xa0:: \xe2\x96\xa0-- -- ^ -- ^ ^ :\'--- \' : \n\n\xe2\x96\xa0eakness at Thy :e:: It \n\niir.-tii i i\xc2\xa3 i i :" \n\nz r~z i;i. -i~\'7 n r. ;^: hi ms ...... \n\nyram in a vale c. tears .... . . 165 \n\nbbics, it conies ! \xc2\xa3 know not why 157 \n\nsieves me, Lord, it giicves me sore 124 \n\n. .: = : :-:- - :_ziti Liz.": ::\' 3:i :-" \n\n5 an easy thins to say 137 \n\n: :::. LLinkiZi :: ~: ..- : :" ~y r : ::j \n\n\'t\xe2\x80\x94zs. z- ~7 ii"; 2:-= :.- \n\n"r;_5 1\'.:-= I: \xe2\x80\x94 f :.z-.:a: :.i~i . . . . . . 2.2 \n\n.t \xe2\x96\xa0= I : , :-7 -\xe2\x96\xa0-\xe2\x80\x94 -I \xe2\x96\xa0--- \xe2\x96\xa0-- \n\nTesns, the ladder of my &ith no \n\n79 \n\nJesu, the very thought of tbe e . . 66 \n\nV.s: i: }:\xe2\x96\xa0:\' ::;ii ~: I ":~: ::. \n\nLast night an arro-sr of light fell down . 213 \n\nL-\'.-Z \'\xe2\x80\x94- \' \'\xe2\x96\xa0\'- \'\xe2\x96\xa0 - " - - : zs-.r. y :\xc2\xb1i: }\'- \n\nLord, I believe a rest remains. . 168 \n\nL::i i z \'z - . !:\xe2\x80\xa2.-: ls :~e \xe2\x96\xa0\xe2\x96\xa0\'-}} \n\nL -.\xe2\x96\xa0-.\'.:.\xe2\x96\xa0. = -: \' ; : :\xe2\x80\xa2:: . " l - \n\n!--: r_v 2- : - ; :. \'. :\xe2\x96\xa0!- : : : - \n\n\n\nINDEX OF FIRST LINES. 223 \n\nMaster, where abidest thou? 177 \n\nMine! \xe2\x80\x94 what rays of glory bright 192 \n\nMy God! is any hour so sweet. 142 \n\nMy soul, amid this stormy world 183 \n\nMy whole though broken heart, O Lord! xi \n\nNo gospel like this feast 158 \n\nNothing fair on earth I see 116 \n\n"Nothing to do" in this world of ours 55 \n\nO Lord my God ! do thou thy holy will 118 \n\nO Loved ! but not enough, though dearer far .... 146 \n\nO Love divine, how sweet thou art ! 135 \n\nO strong to save and bless 144 \n\nO time of tranquil joy and holy feeling 181 \n\nOf all the joys we mortals know 160 \n\nOf what an easy, quick access 39 \n\nOh for a closer walk with God 123 \n\nOh happy day that fixed my choice ........ 32 \n\nOh, how the thought of God attracts 107 \n\nOh that Thou wouldst, the heavens rent 112 \n\nOnly silently resigned 199 \n\n"Perfect in love!" \xe2\x80\x94 Lord, can it be ...... . 195 \n\nPoor heart, lament 22 \n\nPrisoners of hope, lift up your heads 24 \n\nSaviour! I follow on 211 \n\nSaviour, is there any thing . . 58 \n\nSitting at the feet of Jesus xoi \n\nSometimes I upward lift mine eyes 121 \n\nStill, still without ceasing 139 \n\nStill, still, with Thee, when purple morning breaketh . 98 \n\nStrong words are these : " O Lord ! I seek but thee " . 83 \n\nSweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave . 26 \n\n\n\n224 \n\n\n\nINDEX OF FIRST LINES. \n\n\n\nTake me, O my Father ! take me 126 \n\nThat mystic word of thine, O sovereign Lord ! . . . . 80 \n\nThe babe, the bride, the quiet dead 49 \n\nThe livelong night we\'ve toiled in vain 18 \n\n"The Master has come over Jordan" 34 \n\nThere is a pure and peaceful wave 196 \n\nThere is a spot of consecrated ground 105 \n\nThere is life for a look at the Crucified One .... 194 \n\nThese are the crowns that we shall wear 189 \n\nThe way seems long, dear Leader; and my feet . . . 200 \n\nThey love their blessed Leader. Not more close . . . 134 \n\nThou art the Way 127 \n\nThy cruel crown of thorns 103 \n\nTo tell the Saviour all my wants 141 \n\nTo the haven of Thy breast 84 \n\n\'Twas lovely all, \xe2\x80\x94 this glorious earth 150 \n\nWalk in the light ; so shalt thou know 188 \n\nWe ask for peace, O Lord ! 19 \n\nWhen God of old came down from heaven 40 \n\nWhen languor and disease invade 174 \n\nWhen shall Thy love constrain 64 \n\nWhy stand I lingering without 63 \n\nWorking, O Christ ! with thee 51 \n\n\n\n\n\n*m& \n\n\n1 \n\n\n\xe2\x96\xa0 \n\n\n\nLIBRARY OF CpN Q, J^ S |<#l \n\n020 539 834 A] \n\n\n\n\xe2\x96\xa0\xe2\x96\xa0-&$. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\xe2\x96\xa0 \n\n\n\nffjjmj \n\n\n\n\xe2\x96\xa0 \xe2\x96\xa0 \xe2\x96\xa0 \n\n\n\n\xe2\x96\xa0^k \n\n\n\nV \n\n\n\n\n\n\nF \n\n\n\nW$ \n\n\n\n'