2 Sweet to look inward, and attend
The whispers of His love;
Sweet to look upward to the place

Where Jesus pleads above;

3 Sweet to look back, and see my name
In life's fair book set down;
Sweet to look forward, and behold
Eternal joys my own;

4 Sweet on His faithfulness to rest,
Whose love can never end;
Sweet on His covenant of grace

For all things to depend;

5 Sweet, in the confidence of faith,

To trust His firm decrees;
Sweet to lie passive in His hands,

And know no will but His;

6 Sweet to rejoice in lively hope,

That, when my change shall come, Angels will hover round my bed,

And waft my spirit home.

Rev. Augustus Montague Toplady. (1740—1778.) 1776. ab.

3 O Lord, look down, O Lord, forgive,
O help me from on high;
Since no man to himself must live,
Nor to himself can die.

4 And when, through feebleness or pain,
My thoughts are far from Thee,
Though I forget Thee, Saviour, then,
O yet forget not me.

5 In Him that bore our griefs and pains Shall they that suffer boast, Who with the Father ever reigns,

And with the Holy Ghost.

Rev. John Mason Neale. (1818--1866.) 1854. ab

1281 Hymn by the Sick-bed of a Mother.

I O THOU, who, in the olive shade,
When the dark hour came on,
Didst, with a breath of heavenly aid,
Strengthen Thy suffering Son;

2 O by the anguish of that night,
Send us down blest relief;
Or to the chastened let Thy might
Hallow this whelming grief.

3 And Thou, that, when the starry sky
Saw the dread strife begun,
Didst teach adoring faith to cry,
Father, Thy will be done;

4 By Thy meek Spirit, Thou, of all
That e'er have mourned the chief,
Blest Saviour, if the stroke must fall,
Hallow this whelming grief.
Mrs. Felicia Dorothea Hemans. (1794—1835.) 1834. alt

1282
"He healeth the broken in Heart."
Ps. cxlvii. 3.
2 But Thou wilt heal that broken heart,
Which, like the plants that throw
Their fragrance from the wounded part,
Breathes sweetness on our woe.

3 When joy no longer soothes or cheers,
And e'en the hope that threw
A moment's sparkle o'er our tears
Is dimmed and vanished too;

4 O who would bear life's stormy doom,
Did not Thy wing of love

Come, brightly wafting through the gloom
Our peace-branch from above?

5 Then sorrow, touched by Thee, grows bright
With more than rapture's ray;
As darkness shows us worlds of light
We never saw by day.

So calmly Christians sink away,
Descending to the tomb.

The wind breathes low; the withering leaf
Scarce whispers from the tree:

So gently flows the parting breath,
When good men cease to be.

3 How beautiful on all the hills
The crimson light is shed!
'Tis like the peace the Christian gives
To mourners round his bed.

4 How mildly on the wandering cloud
The sunset beam is cast!

mornings, that

soul.

Rev. William Augustus Muhlenberg. (1796-) 1823.

O what will it be when the fulness appears? Rev. Henry Francis Lyte. (1793-1847.) 1834.

LIFE. 8, 7. 61.

Thomas Hastings. (1784-1872.) 1832.

1. LET

We have spent a night of waking

2 Let me go, I may not tarry,

Wrestling thus with doubts and fears; Angels wait my soul to carry,

Where my risen Lord appears; Friends and kindred, weep not so, If you love me, let me go.

3 'Tis not darkness gathering round me, Which withdraws me from your sight; Walls of flesh no more can bound me,

But, translated into light, Like the lark on mounting wing, Though unseen you hear me sing. Heaven's broad day hath o'er me broken, Far beyond earth's span of sky; Am I dead?-nay, by this token, Know that I have ceased to die; Would you solve the mystery, Come up hither, come and see.

1288

James Montgomery. (1771-1854.) 1837. ab.
"It is even a Vapor."
James iv. 14.

I WHAT is life? 'Tis but a vapor,

Soon it vanishes away;

Life is like a dying taper,

O my soul, why wish to stay? Why not spread Thy wings, and fly Straight to yonder world of joy?

2 See that glory, how resplendent! Brighter far than fancy paints; There, in majesty transcendent,

Jesus reigns, the King of saints: Spread thy wings, my soul, and fly Straight to yonder world of joy.

3 Joyful crowds, His throne surrounding, Sing with rapture of His love; Through the heavens His praises sounding,

Filling all the courts above:
Spread thy wings, my soul, and fly
Straight to yonder world of joy.

4 Go, and share His people's glory,
Midst the ransomed crowd appear;
Thine a joyful, wondrous story,
One that angels love to hear:
Spread thy wings, my soul, and fly
Straight to yonder world of joy.

Rev. Thomas Kelly. (1769-1855.) 1809.