4 Renouncing every worldly thing, And safe beneath thy sheltering wing, My sweetest thought henceforth shall be, That all I want I find in thee, In thee, my God, in thee.
766 L. M. 6 lines. My soul trusteth in thee. Psalm 57:1.
Do not I trust in thee, O Lord? Do I not rest in thee alone? Is not the comfort of thy word The sweetest cordial I have known? When vexed with care, bowed down with grief, Where else could I obtain relief?
2 And is it not my chief desire To feel as if a stranger here? Do not my hopes and thoughts aspire Beyond this transitory sphere? And art thou not, while here I roam, My hope, my hiding-place, my home?
3 O, yes! these things are ever true; Thy promise is for ever sure; And all I now am passing through, And all that I may still endure, Will but endear thy word to me, And draw me nearer, Lord, to thee.
4 And now on thee I cast my soul, Come life or death, come ease or pain; Thy presence can each fear control, Thy grace can to the end sustain: Those whom thou lovest, heavenly Friend, Thou lovest even to the end!
767 L. M. Repose in God’s wisdom.
Whither, O whither should I fly, But to my loving Father’s breast! Secure within thine arms to lie, And safe beneath thy wings to rest!
2 In all my ways thy hand I own, Thy ruling providence I see: Assist me still my course to run, And still direct my paths to thee.
3 I have no skill the snare to shun; But thou, O God, my wisdom art; I ever into ruin run; But thou art greater than my heart.
4 Foolish, and impotent, and blind, Lead me a way I have not known; Bring me where I my heaven may find, The heaven of loving thee alone.
768 L. M. 6 lines. He leadeth me.
“He leadeth me!” O! blesséd thought, O! words with heavenly comfort fraught, Whate’er I do, whate’er I be, Still ’tis God’s hand that leadeth me! He leadeth me! he leadeth me! By his own hand he leadeth me.
2 Sometimes ’midst scenes of deepest gloom, Sometimes where Eden’s bowers bloom; By waters still, o’er troubled sea— Still ’tis his hand that leadeth me! He leadeth me! he leadeth me! By his own hand he leadeth me.
3 Lord, I would clasp thy hands in mine, Nor ever murmur nor repine— Content, whatever lot I see, Since ’tis my God that leadeth me! He leadeth me! he leadeth me! By his own hand he leadeth me.
4 And when my task on earth is done, When, by thy grace, the victory’s won; E’en death’s cold wave I will not flee, Since God through Jordan leadeth me! He leadeth me! he leadeth me! By his own hand he leadeth me.
769 C. M. Thou art my soul’s bright morning star.
My God, the spring of all my joys, The life of my delights, The glory of my brightest days, The comfort of my nights!
2 In darkest shades, if thou appear, My dawning is begun; Thou art my soul’s bright morning star, And thou my rising sun.
3 The opening heavens around me shine With beams of sacred bliss, While Jesus shows his mercy mine, And whispers I am his.
4 My soul would leave this heavy clay At that transporting word, And run with joy the shining way To meet my dearest Lord.
770 C. M. Rejoice in the Lord always. Phil. 4:4.
Rejoice, believers in the Lord, Who makes your cause his own; The hope that’s built upon his word, Can ne’er be overthrown.
2 Though many foes beset your road, And feeble is your arm, Your life is hid in Christ your God Beyond the reach of harm.
3 Weak as you are, you shall not faint, Or fainting, shall not die; Jesus, the strength of every saint, Will aid you from on high.
4 As surely as he overcame, And triumphed once for you; So surely you that love his name, Shall triumph in him too.
771 C. M. Call me thy servant, Lord.
O not to fill the mouth of fame, My longing soul is stirred: But give me a diviner name; Call me thy servant, Lord!
2 No longer would my soul be known As uncontrolled and free; O, not mine own! O, not mine own! Lord, I belong to thee.
3 Thy servant—me thy servant choose, Nought of thy claim abate! The glorious name I would not lose, Nor change the sweet estate.
4 In life, in death, on earth, in heaven, This is the name for me; And be the same dear title given Through all eternity.
772 C. M. Psalm 1.
Blest is the man who shuns the place Where sinners love to meet, Who fears to tread their wicked ways, And hates the scoffer’s seat:
2 But in the statutes of the Lord, Has placed his chief delight; By day he reads or hears the word, And meditates by night.
3 Green as the leaf, and ever fair, Shall his profession shine: While fruits of holiness appear Like clusters on the vine.