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639.

I HUSHED was the evening hymn,
The temple courts were dark;
The lamp was burning dim
Before the sacred ark;
When suddenly a voice divine

Rang through the silence of the shrine.

2 The old man, meek and mild,

The priest of Israel, slept;
His watch the temple-child,
The little Levite, kept;

And what from Eli's sense was sealed,
The Lord to Hannah's son revealed.

3 O, give me Samuel's ear, The open ear, O Lord,

Alive and quick to hear

Each whisper of thy word:
Like him to answer at thy call,
And to obey thee first of all.

4 O, give me Samuel's heart,
A lowly heart that waits,
When in thy house thou art,
Or watches at thy gates;
By day and night, a heart that still
Moves at the breathing of thy will.

5 O, give me Samuel's mind;
A sweet, unmurmuring faith,
Obedient and resigned

To thee in life and death;

That I may read with childlike eyes Truths that are hidden from the wise.

The earth is not too low,

His praises there may grow.

Let all the world in every corner sing, My God and King!

I I GREET thee, my Redeemer sure,
I trust in none but thee,

Thou who hast borne such toil and shame

And suffering for me,

Our hearts from cares and cravings vain, And foolish fears set free.

2 Thou art the life by which we live, Our strength is all from thee; Uphold us so in face of death,

What time soe'er it be,

That we may meet it with strong heart,
And may die peacefully.

3 The true and perfect gentleness
We find in thee alone;
Make us to know thy loveliness,
Teach us to love thee known;
Grant us sweet fellowship with thee
And all who are thine own.

4 Our hope is in none else but thee;
Faith holds thy promise fast;
Be pleased, Lord, to strengthen us,
Whom thou redeemèd hast,
To bear all troubles patiently,
And overcome at last.

643.

I BEYOND, beyond the boundless sea,
Above that dome of sky,
Farther than thought itself can flee,
Thy dwelling is on high;
Yet dear the awful thought to me
That thou, my God, art nigh!

2 Art nigh, and yet my laboring mind Feels after thee in vain,

3

Thee in these works of power to find,

Or to thy seat attain ;

Thy messenger, the stormy wind;
Thy path, the trackless main.
These speak of thee with loud acclaim,
They thunder forth thy praise,

The glorious honor of thy name,

The wonders of thy ways;

But thou art not in tempest-flame,
Nor in the noonday blaze.

4 We hear thy voice, when thunders roll
Through the wide fields of air;
The waves obey thy dread control,
Yet still thou art not there:
Where shall I find him, O my soul,

Who yet is everywhere?

5 O, not in circling depth or height,
But in the conscious breast,
Present to faith, though veiled from sight,
There doth his Spirit rest:

O come, thou Presence infinite,
And make thy creature blest!

Love's Offering. P. M.

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