Be thou my Friend--my Father be!

I bend in trust--I pray! forgive The erring child that flies to thee!

975. L. M. Anonymous.

The Faithful Minister.

1 "Let there be light!"--When from on high, O G.o.d, that first commandment came, Forth leaped the sun; and earth and sky Lay in his light, and felt his flame.

2 "Let there be light!"--The light of grace And truth, a darkling world to bless, Came with thy word, when on our race Broke forth the Sun of Righteousness.

3 Light of our souls! how strong it grows: That sun, how wide his beams he flings, As up the glorious sky he goes, With light and healing in his wings!

4 Give us that light! O G.o.d, 'tis given!

Hope sees it open heaven's wide halls To those who for the truth have striven; And Faith walks firmly where it falls.

5 Churches no more, in cold eclipse, Mourn the withholding of its rays; It gilds their gates, and on the lips Of every faithful preacher plays.

976. P. M. Moore.

Fall of Israel.

1 Fallen is thy throne, O Israel!-- Silence is on all thy plains,-- Thy dwellings all lie desolate,-- Thy children weep in chains.

Where are the dews that fed thee On Ethan's barren sh.o.r.e?

That fire from heaven that led thee Now lights thy path no more!

2 Lord, thou didst love Jerusalem!

Once she was all thy own!

Her love thy fairest heritage, Her power thy glory's throne; Till evil came and blighted Thy long-loved olive tree, And Salem's shrines were lighted For other G.o.ds than thee.

3 Then sunk the star of Solyma, Then pa.s.sed her glory's day, Like heath that in the wilderness The wild wind whirls away.

Silent and waste her bowers, Where once the mighty trod; And sunk those guilty towers, Where Baal reigned as G.o.d.

977. L. M. Anonymous.

Remonstrance with the Jews.

1 Why on the bending willows hung, Israel! still sleeps thy tuneful string?-- Still mute remains thy sullen tongue, And Zion's song denies to sing?

2 Awake! thy sweetest raptures raise; Let harp and voice unite their strains Thy promised King his sceptre sways; Jesus, thine own Messiah, reigns!

3 No taunting foes the song require: No strangers mock thy captive chain: But friends provoke the silent lyre, And brethren ask the holy strain.

4 Nor fear thy Salem's hills to wrong, If other lands thy triumph share: A heavenly city claims thy song; A brighter Salem rises there.

5 By foreign streams no longer roam; Nor, weeping, think of Jordan's flood: In every clime behold a home, In every temple see thy G.o.d.

978. 8s. & 7s. M. Cowper.

The Glory of the Redeemed.

1 Hear what G.o.d the Lord hath spoken, "O my people, faint and few, Comfortless, afflicted, broken, Fair abodes I build for you; Thorns of heart-felt tribulation Shall no more perplex your ways; Ye shall name your walls, Salvation, And your gates shall all be praise.

2 "There, like streams that feed the garden, Pleasures without end shall flow; For the Lord, your faith rewarding, All his bounty shall bestow; Still, in undisturbed possession, Peace and righteousness shall reign: Never shall you feel oppression, Hear the voice of war again.

3 "Ye no more your suns descending, Waning moons no more shall see; But, your griefs forever ending, Find eternal noon in me; G.o.d shall rise, and shining o'er you, Change to day the gloom of night; He, the Lord, shall be your glory, G.o.d, your everlasting light."

979. C. M. Ancient Hymns.

The n.o.ble Army of Martyrs.

1 The triumphs of the martyred saints The joyous lay demand; The heart delights in song to dwell On that victorious band-- Those whom the senseless world abhorred, Who cast the world aside, Deeming it worthless, for the sake Of Christ, their Lord and Guide.

2 For him they braved the tyrant's rage, The scourge's cruel smart; The wild beast's fang their bodies tore, But vanquished not the heart; Like lambs before the sword they fell, Nor cry nor plaint expressed; For patience kept the conscious mind And armed the fearless breast.

3 What tongue can tell the crown prepared The martyr's brow to grace?

His shining robe, his joys unknown, Before thy glorious face?

Vouchsafe us, Lord, if such thy will.

Clear skies and seasons calm; If not, the martyr's cross to bear, And win the martyr's palm.

980. 6s. M. Luther.

The Death of Martyrs.

1 Flung to the heedless winds, Or on the waters cast, Their ashes shall be watched, And gathered at the last: And from that scattered dust, Around us and abroad, Shall spring a plenteous seed Of witnesses for G.o.d.