1 O Thou, whose power o'er moving worlds presides, Whose voice created, and whose wisdom guides, On darkling man in pure effulgence shine, And cheer his clouded mind with light divine.

2 'T is thine alone to calm the pious breast With silent confidence and holy rest; From thee, great G.o.d, we spring, to thee we tend; Path, Motive, Guide, Original, and End.

442. S. M. Watts.

Abba, Father.

1 Behold, what wondrous grace The Father has bestowed On sinners of a mortal race, To call them sons of G.o.d!

2 Nor doth it yet appear How great we must be made; But when we see our Saviour here, We shall be like our Head.

3 A hope so much divine May trials well endure; May purify our souls from sin, As Christ, the Lord, is pure.

4 We would no longer lie Like slaves beneath the throne; Our faith shall Abba, Father, cry, And thou the kindred own.

443. L. M. Mrs. Steele.

The Christian's Resolve.

1 Ah wretched souls, who strive in vain, Slaves to the world, and slaves to sin!

A n.o.bler toil may I sustain, A n.o.bler satisfaction win.

2 May I resolve, with all my heart, With all my powers, to serve the Lord; Nor from his precepts e'er depart, Whose service is a rich reward.

3 Be this the purpose of my soul, My solemn, my determined choice, To yield to his supreme control, And in his kind commands rejoice.

4 O may I never faint nor tire, Nor, wandering, leave his sacred ways; Great G.o.d! accept my soul's desire, And give me strength to live thy praise.

444. L. M. Browne.

"Giving thanks to G.o.d in all things."

1 Great G.o.d! my joyful thanks to thee Shall, like thy gifts, continual be: In constant streams thy bounty flows, Nor end nor intermission knows.

2 Thy kindness all my comforts gives; My numerous wants thy hand relieves; Nor can I ever, Lord, be poor, Who live on thy exhaustless store.

3 If what I wish thy will denies, It is that thou art good and wise; Afflictions, which may make me mourn, Thou canst, thou dost, to blessings turn.

4 Deep, Lord, upon my thankful breast, Let all thy favors be imprest; And though withdrawn thy gifts should be In all things I'll give thanks to thee.

445. C. M. Doddridge.

"Now are we sons of G.o.d."

1 How rich thy favors, G.o.d of grace!

How various, how divine!

Full as the ocean they are poured, And bright as heaven they shine.

2 He to eternal glory calls, And leads the wondrous way To his own palace where he reigns In uncreated day.

3 Jesus, the herald of his love, Displays the radiant prize, A crown of never-ending bliss, To our admiring eyes.

4 The songs of everlasting years That mercy shall attend, Which leads, through sufferings of an hour, To joys that never end.

446. C. M. H. H. Milman.

Praying for Divine Help.

1 O Help us, Lord! each hour of need Thy heavenly succor give; Help us in thought, and word, and deed, Each hour on earth we live.

2 O help us, when our spirits bleed, With contrite anguish sore, And when our hearts are cold and dead, O help us, Lord, the more.

3 O help us through the prayer of faith More firmly to believe; For still the more the servant hath, The more shall he receive.

4 O help us, Father! from on high; We know no help but thee; O! help us so to live and die, As thine in heaven to be.

447. C. H. M. Anonymous.

Come, let us Pray.

1 Come, let us pray: 'tis sweet to feel That G.o.d himself is near; That, while we at his footstool kneel, His mercy deigns to hear: Though sorrows cloud life's dreary way, This is our solace--let us pray.

2 Come, let us pray: the burning brow, The heart oppressed with care, And all the woes that throng us now, Will be relieved by prayer: Our G.o.d will chase our griefs away; O, glorious thought!--come, let us pray.