Lord, a little band, and lowly, We are come to sing to thee; Thou art great, and high, and holy, O how solemn should we be!
2 Fill our hearts with thoughts of Jesus, And of heaven, where he is gone; And let nothing ever please us He would grieve to look upon.
3 For we know the Lord of glory Always sees what children do, And is writing now the story Of our thoughts and actions too.
4 Let our sins be all forgiven; Make us fear whate’er is wrong; Lead us on our way to heaven, There to sing a nobler song.
1219 8s & 7s. Give me thy heart.
Take my heart, O Father! mold it In obedience to thy will; And as ripening years unfold it, Keep it true and childlike still.
2 Father, keep it pure and lowly, Strong and brave, yet free from strife, Turning from the paths unholy Of a vain or sinful life.
3 Ever let thy might surround it; Strengthen it with power divine; Till thy cords of love have bound it, Father, wholly unto thine.
1220 11s & 8s. I think when I read that sweet story, etc.
I think when I read that sweet story of old, When Jesus was here among men, How he called little children as lambs to his fold, I should like to have been with them then. I wish that his hands had been placed on my head, That his arm had been thrown around me, And that I might have seen his kind look when he said, “Let the little ones come unto me.”
2 Yet still to his footstool in prayer I may go, And ask for a share in his love; And if I thus earnestly seek him below, I shall see him and hear him above— In that beautiful place he is gone to prepare For all who are washed and forgiven; And many dear children are gathering there— “For of such is the kingdom of heaven.”
3 But thousands and thousands who wander and fall, Never heard of that heavenly home; I should like them to know there is room for them all, And that Jesus has bid them to come; I long for the joy of that glorious time, The sweetest, and brightest, and best, When the dear little children of every clime Shall crowd to his arms and be blessed.
1221 L. M. 6 lines. Thy sun shall no more go down. Isaiah 50:20.
At evening time, when day is done, Life’s little day is near its close, And all the glare and heat are gone, And gentle dews foretell repose— To crown my faith before the night, At evening time let there be light.
2 At evening time when labor’s past, Though storms and toils have marred my day, Mercy has tempered every blast, And love and hope have cheered the way: Now let the parting hour be bright; At evening time let there be light.
3 God doth send light at evening time, And bid the fears, the doubtings, flee. I trust his promises sublime; His glory now is risen on me; His full salvation is in sight; At evening time there now is light.
1222 C. M. D. At evening there shall be light. Zech. 14:7.
Our pathway oft is wet with tears, Our sky with clouds o’ercast, And worldly cares and worldly fears Go with us to the last;— Not to the last! God’s word hath said, Could we but read aright: O pilgrim! lift in hope thy head— At eve it shall be light!
2 Though earth-born shadows now may shroud Our toilsome path awhile, God’s blesséd word can part each cloud, And bid the sunshine smile. If we but trust in living faith, His love and power divine, Then, though our sun may set in death, His light shall round us shine.
3 When tempest-clouds are dark on high, His bow of love and peace Shines beauteous in the vaulted sky— A pledge that storms shall cease. Then keep we on with hope unchilled, By faith and not by sight, And we shall own his word fulfilled— At eve it shall be light.
1223 C. M. When I am old—forsake me not. Psalm 71:18.
God of my childhood and my youth, The Guide of all my days, I have declared thy heavenly truth, And told thy wondrous ways.
2 Wilt thou forsake my hoary hairs, And leave my fainting heart? Who shall sustain my sinking years, If God, my strength, depart?
3 Let me thy power and truth proclaim To the surviving age, And leave a savor of thy name When I shall quit the stage.
4 The land of silence and of death Attends my next remove; O, may these poor remains of breath Teach the wide world thy love.
1224 C. H. M. Watch and pray.
Go watch and pray; thou canst not tell How near thine hour may be; Thou canst not know how soon the bell May toll its notes for thee: Death’s countless snares beset thy way; Frail child of dust, go watch and pray.
2 Fond youth, while free from blighting care, Does thy firm pulse beat high? Do hope’s glad visions, bright and fair, Dilate before thine eye? Soon these must change, must pass away; Frail child of dust, go watch and pray.