Book of Hymns for Public and Private Devotion - BestLightNovel.com
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3 Who G.o.d doth late and early pray More of His grace than goods to lend, And walks with man, from day to day, As with a brother and a friend!
4 This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands, And having nothing, yet hath all.
280. S.M. Johns.
Purity.
1 O! know ye not that ye The temple are of G.o.d?
Revere the earth-built shrine, where He Should find a meet abode!
2 Immortal man, keep pure Thyself, that mystic shrine; Let hate of all that's dark endure, And love of all divine.
3 Let saintly thoughts be shown In act by saintly things; Like glories through the temple thrown, From cherub's curtained wings.
4 Let life, a holy stream, Its fountain holy show; Reflecting, with a softened gleam, Heaven's purity below.
281. S. M. Keble.
The Pure in Heart.
1 Blest are the pure in heart, For they shall see our G.o.d; The secret of the Lord is theirs; Their soul is His abode.
2 Still to the lowly soul G.o.d doth Himself impart, And for His temple and His throne Doth choose the pure in heart.
282. 10s. M. Anonymous.
"If He Giveth Quiet, Who Can Make Trouble?"
1 Quiet from G.o.d! how beautiful to keep This treasure, the All-merciful hath given; To feel, when we awake and when we sleep, Its incense round us, like a breath from heaven!
2 To sojourn in the world, and yet apart; To dwell with G.o.d, and still with man to feel; To bear about forever in the heart The gladness which His spirit doth reveal!
3 Who shall make trouble, then? Not evil minds Which like a shadow o'er creation lower; The soul which peace hath thus attuned finds How strong within doth reign the Calmer's power.
4 What shall make trouble? Not the holy thought Of the departed; that will be a part Of those undying things His peace hath wrought Into a world of beauty in the heart.
5 What shall make trouble? Not slow-wasting pain, Nor even the threatening, certain stroke of death; These do but wear away, then break, the chain Which bound the spirit down to things beneath.
283. L. M. Jane Roscoe.
Judge Not.
1 O, who shall say he knows the folds Which veil another's inmost heart,-- The hopes, thoughts, wishes, which it holds, In which he never bore a part?
That hidden world no eye can see,-- O, who shall pierce its mystery?
2 There may be hope as pure, as bright, As ever sought eternity,-- There may be light,--clear, heavenly light, Where all seems cold and dark to thee; And when thy spirit mourns the dust, There may be trust,--delightful trust.
3 Go, bend to G.o.d, and leave to Him The mystery of thy brother's heart, Nor vainly think his faith is dim, Because in thine it hath no part; He, too, is mortal,--and, like thee, Would soar to immortality.
4 And if in duty's hallowed sphere, Like Christ, he meekly, humbly bends,-- With hands unstained, and conscience clear, With life's temptations still contends,-- O, leave him that unbroken rest, The peace that shrines a virtuous breast!
5 But if his thoughts and hopes should err, Still view him with a gentle eye,-- Remembering doubt, and change, and fear, Are woven in man's destiny; And when the clouds are pa.s.sed away, That truth shall dawn with brightening day.
284. C. M. Miss Fletcher.
Kindly Judgment.
1 Think gently of the erring one!
O, let us not forget, However darkly stained by sin, He is our brother yet!
Heir of the same inheritance, Child of the self-same G.o.d, He hath but stumbled in the path We have in weakness trod.
2 Speak gently to the erring ones!
We yet may lead them back, With holy words, and tones of love, From misery's th.o.r.n.y track.
Forget not, brother, thou hast sinned, And sinful yet may'st be; Deal gently with the erring heart, As G.o.d hath dealt with thee.
285. C. M. Anonymous.
Speak Gently.
1 Speak gently,--it is better far To rule by love than fear; Speak gently,--let no harsh word mar The good we may do here.
2 Speak gently to the young,--for they Will have enough to bear; Pa.s.s through this life as best they may, 'Tis full of anxious care.
3 Speak gently to the aged one, Grieve not the careworn heart; The sands of life are nearly run, Let them in peace depart.