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Give us help from trouble ; for vain is the help
LOWLY and solemn be,
Father divine !
Alike are thine!
O Father! in that hour
By Him who bowed to take
The thorn, the rod;
Aid us, O God!
Tremblers beside the grave,
Thine, only thine!
SORE the burdens, Lord, we bear,
Bitter, Lord, the tears we weep; Once thy happy ones we were
Faithful now thy mourners keep : Meekly be each burden borneHelp us holily to mourn.
No sweet gift do we receive ?
Nay, behold thy bitter cup ! Have we nothing left to give ?
Lord ! our tears we offer up! No bright garlands do we wear? Nay, thy burdens, Lord, we bear.
Humbly clasp we each dread gift
Lo! the burden groweth light; Heavenward our sad eyes we lift
In our tears what strange delight! Joy of grief thy love will make, If in love our grief we take.
From our want flows precious store;
In our grief thy grace appears ; Heavenly wings, those burdens sore,
Dews divine, those bitter tears ! Stricken faith hath glory given, Sorrow lets us into Heaven.
I am not alone, because the Father is with me.
O AWFUL hour, when all alone,
My soul unto her foes is given; When not a smile my path doth own,
And not a star shines in my Heaven !
O trembling soul! thou back would'st turn,
Would'st from the lonely terror shrink : This awful lore I need not learn :
This bitter cup,-0, must I drink?
Must I, my God ?-But O why shine
The depths of my dark loneliness ? O what can make this hour divine
This shuddering soul so strangely bless ?
That vision bright, it fills my eye!
The same my Saviour saw of old ! O Father mine! Thou standest by,
And thy dear hand the cup doth hold!
O vision bright! no more my
soul The loneliness dotb lonely think; Thou givest me the bitter bowl
It must be sweet,--I smile and drink !
For thou hast been my defence and refuge in the
day of my
O THOU! who driest the mourner's tear,
How dark this world would be,
We could not fly to Thee?
The friends who in our sunshine live,
When winter comes, are flown, And he who has but tears to give,
Must weep those tears alone.
But Thou wilt heal that broken heart,
Which like the plants that throw 1 Their fragrance from the wounded part,
Breathes sweetness out of woe.
When joy no longer soothes or cheers,
And ev'n the hope that threw
Is dimmed and vanished too;
Oh! who would bear life's stormy doom,
Did not thy wing of love
Our peace-branch from above,
Then, sorrow touched by Thee grows bright,
With more than rapture's ray;
We never saw by day.
The longsuffering of our Lord is salvation.
WEAK tremblers on the edge of woe,
Yet shrinking from true bliss, Our rest must be 'no rest below,
And let our prayer be this :
Reign in our hearts alone.
Bring all our wandering fancies home,
For Thou hast every spell, • And mid the heathen where they roam
Thou knowest, Lord, too well.
• Thou know'st our service, sad and hard,
'Thou know'st us fond and frail ; Win us to be beloved and spared
When all the world shall fail.
So when at last our weary days
"Are well nigh wasted here,
In distance calm and clear,
'When in thy love and Israel's sin
We read our story true,