For thou hast made this wondrous soul All for thyself alone; Ah! send thy sweet transforming grace To make it more thine own.

--Frederick William Faber.

G.o.d IS MINE

If G.o.d is mine then present things And things to come are mine; Yea, Christ, his word, and Spirit, too, And glory all divine.

If he is mine then from his love He every trouble sends; All things are working for my good, And bliss his rod attends.

If he is mine I need not fear The rage of earth and h.e.l.l; He will support my feeble power, Their utmost force repel.

If he is mine let friends forsake, Let wealth and honor flee; Sure he who giveth me himself Is more than these to me.

If he is mine I'll boldly pa.s.s Through death's tremendous vale; He is a solid comfort when All other comforts fail.

Oh! tell me, Lord, that thou art mine; What can I wish beside?

My soul shall at the fountain live, When all the streams are dried.

A PRESENT SAVIOUR

I have thee every hour, Most gracious Lord, That tender voice of thine Doth peace afford.

I have thee every hour, Thou stay'st near by; Temptations lose their power Since thou art nigh.

I have thee every hour, In joy and pain; With me thou dost abide, And life is gain.

I have thee every hour, Teach me thy will; All thy rich promises Thou dost fulfill.

I have thee every hour, Most Holy One, And I am thine indeed, Thou blessed Son.

--Annie S. Hawks, altered by J. M.

THE THOUGHT OF G.o.d

The thought of G.o.d, the thought of thee, Who liest near my heart, And yet beyond imagined s.p.a.ce Outstretched and present art--

The thought of thee, above, below, Around me and within, Is more to me than health and wealth, Or love of kith and kin.

The thought of G.o.d is like the tree Beneath whose shade I lie And watch the fleet of snowy clouds Sail o'er the silent sky.

'Tis like that soft invading light Which in all darkness shines, The thread that through life's somber web In golden pattern twines.

It is a thought which ever makes Life's sweetest smiles from tears, It is a daybreak to our hopes, A sunset to our fears.

Within a thought so great, our souls Little and modest grow, And, by its vastness awed, we learn The art of walking slow.

The wild flower on the gra.s.sy mound Scarce bends its pliant form When overhead the autumnal wood Is thundering like a storm.

So is it with our humbled souls, Down in the thought of G.o.d, Scarce conscious in their sober peace Of the wild storms abroad.

To think of thee is almost prayer, And is outspoken praise; And pain can even pa.s.sive thoughts To actual worship raise.

All murmurs lie inside thy will Which are to thee addressed; To suffer for thee is our work, To think of thee, our rest.

--Frederick William Faber.

Let thy sweet presence light my way, And hallow every cross I bear; Trans.m.u.ting duty, conflict, care, Into love's service day by day.

OUR HEAVENLY FATHER

My G.o.d, how wonderful thou art, Thy majesty how bright, How beautiful thy mercy seat In depths of burning light!

How dread are thine eternal years, O everlasting Lord, By prostrate spirits, day and night, Incessantly adored.

How beautiful, how beautiful The sight of thee must be, Thine endless wisdom, boundless power, And awful purity!

O how I fear thee, living G.o.d!

With deepest, tenderest fears, And worship thee with trembling hope And penitential tears.

Yet I may love thee too, O Lord!

Almighty as thou art, For thou hast stooped to ask of me The love of this poor heart.

Oh, then, this worse than worthless heart In pity deign to take, And make it love thee for thyself, And for thy glory's sake.

No earthly father loves like thee, No mother half so mild Bears and forbears, as thou hast done With me, thy sinful child.

Only to sit and think of G.o.d, O what a joy it is!

To think the thought, to breathe the name-- Earth has no higher bliss.

Father of Jesus, love's Reward!

What rapture will it be, Prostrate before thy throne to lie And gaze, and gaze on thee!

--Frederick William Faber.

RULES FOR DAILY LIFE

Begin the day with G.o.d: Kneel down to him in prayer; Lift up thy heart to his abode And seek his love to share.

Open the Book of G.o.d, And read a portion there; That it may hallow all thy thoughts And sweeten all thy care.

Go through the day with G.o.d, Whate'er thy work may be; Where'er thou art--at home, abroad, He still is near to thee.