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Lord, God of gods, before whose throne
Stand storms and fire, O what shall we
Return to heaven, that is our own,

When all the world belongs to Thee?
We have no offering to impart,
But praises, and a wounded heart.

O Thou that sitt'st in heaven, and see'st
My deeds without, my thoughts within,
Be Thou my prince, be Thou my priest,-
Command my soul, and cure my sin:
How bitter my afflictions be

I care not, so I rise to Thee.

What I possess, or what I crave,
Brings no content, great God, to me,
If what I would, or what I have

Be not possest and blest in Thee:
What I enjoy, oh, make it mine,
In making me-that have it-Thine.

When winter-fortunes cloud the brows

Of summer-friends,-when eyes grow strange,When plighted faith forgets its vows,

When earth and all things in it change,—
O Lord, thy mercies fail me never,-
When once Thou lov'st, Thou lov'st for ever.

Great God, whose kingdom hath no end,
Into whose secrets none can dive,
Whose mercy none can apprehend,
Whose justice none can feel and live,
What my dull heart cannot aspire
To know, Lord, teach me to admire.

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good man."

The writer of the following memoir has found it impossible to read of Herbert, and not to love him.

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