Whate'er I feel,

Still let me bring

This offering,

And to him kneel.

Though I lose friends and wealth,
And bear reproach and shame;
Though I lose ease and health,
Still let me praise God's name.
That fear and pain

Which would destroy
My thanks and joy,
Do thou restrain.

Though human help depart,
And flesh draw near to dust,
Let faith keep up my heart,
To love God true and just:
And all my days

Let no disease

Cause me to cease
His joyful praise.

Though sin would make me doubt,

And fill my soul with fears,

Though God seems to shut out

My daily cries and tears:

By no such frost

Of sad delays,

Let thy sweet praise

Be nipped and lost.

Away, distrustful care!
I have thy promise, Lord,
To banish all despair,

I have thy oath and word.
And therefore I

Shall see thy face,

And there thy grace
Shall magnify.

Though sin and death conspire
To rob thee of thy praise,

Still towards thee I'll aspire,

And thou dull hearts canst raise.

Open thy door;

And when grim death

Shall stop this breath,

I'll praise thee more.

With thy triumphant flock
Then I shall numbered be;

Built on th' eternal rock,

His glory we shall see.
The heavens so high
With praise shall ring,
And all shall sing
In harmony.

The sun is but a spark

From the eternal light:
Its brightest beams are dark
To that most glorious sight:

There the whole choir,

With one accord,

Shall praise the Lord

For evermore.

Perseverance.

My soul, be on thy guard,
Ten thousand foes arise;
The hosts of sin are pressing hard
To draw thee from the skies.

O watch, and fight, and pray;
The battle ne'er give o'er;
Renew it boldly every day,
And help divine implore.

Ne'er think the victory won,
Nor once at ease sit down;

The work of faith will not be done
Till thou hast got thy crown.

Then persevere till death

Shall bring thee to thy God; He'll take thee, at thy parting breath, To his divine abode.

2

Prayer Answered by Crosses

I ASKED the Lord that I might grow
In faith, and love, and every grace;
Might more of his salvation know,
And seek more earnestly his face.

'Twas he who taught me thus to pray,
And he, I trust, has answered prayer;
But it has been in such a way

As almost drove me to despair.

I hoped that in some favoured hour
At once he'd answer my request,
And by his love's constraining power,
Subdue my sins and give me rest.

Instead of this, he made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart,
And let the angry powers of hell
Assault my soul in every part.

Yea, more with his own hand he seemed
Intent to aggravate my woe;

Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.

"Lord, why is this?" I trembling cried,
"Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death?"

"Tis in this way," the Lord replied.

"I answer prayer for grace and faith.

"These inward trials I employ,

From self and pride to set thee free, And break thy schemes of earthly joy, That thou may'st seek thy all in me."

"Thy Will be one."

My God, my Father, while I stray
Far from my home, in life's rough way,
Oh teach me from my heart to say,

"Thy will be done."

Though dark my path, and sad my lot,
Let me "be still" and murmur not;
Or breathe the prayer, divinely taught,
Thy will be done."

What though in lonely grief I sigh
For friends beloved, no longer nigh?
Submissive still I would reply,

"Thy will be done."

If thou shouldst call me to resign
What most I prize, it ne'er was mine:
I only yield thee what was thine;
Thy will be done."

Should pining sickness waste away
My life in premature decay,

My Father! still I strive to say,

"Thy will be done."