501. C. M. Watts.

Invocation of the Divine Spirit.

1 Come, holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, With all thy quickening powers, Kindle a flame of sacred love In these cold hearts of ours.

2 In vain we tune our formal songs, In vain we strive to rise; Hosannas languish on our tongues, And our devotion dies.

3 Dear Lord! and shall we ever live At this poor dying rate?

Our love so faint, so cold to thee, And thine to us so great?

4 Come, holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, With all thy quickening powers, Come, shed abroad a Saviour's love, And that shall kindle ours.

502. C. M. Beddome.

For Inward Truth.

1 Am I an Israelite indeed.

Without a false disguise?

Have I renounced my sins, and left My refuges of lies?

2 Say, does my heart unchanged remain, Or is it formed anew?

What is the rule by which I walk, The object I pursue?

3 Cause me, O G.o.d of truth and grace, My real state to know; If I am wrong, O set me right!

If right, preserve me so!

503. C. M. Methodist Coll.

Seeking G.o.d.

1 Talk with us, Lord, thyself reveal, While here o'er earth we rove; Speak to our hearts, and let us feel The kindling of thy love.

2 With thee conversing, we forget All time, and toil, and care; Labor is rest, and pain is sweet, If thou, my G.o.d, art here.

3 Here, then, my G.o.d, vouchsafe to stay, And bid my heart rejoice; My bounding heart shall own thy sway, And echo to thy voice.

504. L. M. Grigg.

Not Ashamed of Christ.

1 Jesus! and shall it ever be!

A mortal man ashamed of thee; Ashamed of thee, whom angels praise, Whose glories shine through endless days!

2 Ashamed of Jesus! just as soon Let midnight be ashamed of noon; 'Tis midnight with my soul, till he, Bright morning star, bid darkness flee.

3 Ashamed of Jesus! yes I may, When I've no guilt to wash away, No tear to wipe--no good to crave, No fears to quell--no soul to save.

4 Till then--nor is my boasting vain-- Till then, I boast a Saviour slain; And oh! may this my glory be, That Christ is not ashamed of me.

505. 7s. M. C. Wesley.

The Simplicity of Christ.

1 Lord! that I may learn of thee, Give me true simplicity; Wean my soul, and keep it low, Willing thee alone to know.

2 Of my boasted wisdom spoiled, Docile, helpless as a child; Only seeing in thy light, Only walking in thy might.

3 Then infuse the living grace, Truthful soul of righteousness; Knowledge, love divine, impart,-- Life eternal to my heart.

506. 7s. M. Newton.

Docility and Trust.

1 Quiet, Lord, my froward heart, Make me teachable and mild; Upright, simple, free from art, Make me as a weaned child; From distrust and envy free, Pleased with all that pleaseth thee.

2 What thou shalt to-day provide, Let me as a child receive; What to-morrow may betide, Calmly to thy wisdom leave: 'Tis enough that thou wilt care; Why should I the burden bear?

3 As a little child relies On a care beyond his own; Knows he's neither strong nor wise Fears to stir a step alone; Let me thus with thee abide, As my Father, Guard, and Guide.

507. L. M. Beard's Coll.

G.o.d's Care our Comfort.

1 Oh! sweet it is to know, to feel, In all our gloom, our wanderings here, No night of sorrow can conceal Man from thy notice, from thy care.