Father, Who didst fashion me
Image of Thyself to be,
Fill me with Thy love divine,
Let my every thought be Thine.
Holy Jesus, may I be
Dead and buried here with Thee;
And, by love inflamed, arise
Unto Thee a sacrifice.
Thou Who dost all gifts impart,
Shine, sweet Spirit, in my heart;
Best of gifts Thyself bestow;
Make me burn Thy love to know.
God, the Blessèd Three in One,
Dwell within my heart alone;
Thou dost give Thyself to me,
May I give myself to Thee. Amen.
The House of God.
(Psalm lxxxiv.)
PLEASANT are Thy courts above
In the land of light and love;
Pleasant are Thy courts below
In this land of sin and woe:
O, my spirit longs and faints
For the converse of Thy Saints,
For the brightness of Thy face,
King of glory, God of grace.
Happy birds that sing and fly
Round Thy Altars, O most High;
Happier souls that find a rest
In a heavenly Father's breast;
Like the wandering dove that found
No repose on earth around,
They can to their ark repair,
And enjoy it ever there.
Happy souls, their praises flow
Even in this vale of woe:
Waters in the deserts rise,
Manna feeds them from the skies;
On they go from strength to strength,
Till they reach Thy throne at length,
At Thy feet adoring fall,
Who hast led them safe through all.
Lord, be mine this prize to win,
Guide me through a world of sin,
Keep me by Thy saving grace,
Give me at Thy side a place;
Sun and shield alike Thou art,
Guide and guard my erring heart;
Grace and glory flow from Thee;
Shower, O shower them, Lord, on me.
O GOD of Hosts, the mighty Lord,
How lovely is the place,
Where Thou, enthroned in glory, shew'st
The brightness of Thy face.
My longing soul faints with desire
To view Thy blest abode ;
My panting heart and flesh cry out
For Thee the living God.
For in Thy Courts one single day
'Tis better to attend,
Than, Lord, in any place besides
A thousand days to spend.
O Lord of Hosts, my King and God,
How highly blest are they,
Who in Thy Temple always dwell,
And there Thy praise display!
To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
The God Whom we adore,
Be glory, as it was, is now,
And shall be evermore.
By permission, from "Hymns Ancient and
We love the place, O God,
Wherein Thine honour dwells;
The joy of Thine abode
All earthly joy excels.
It is the House of prayer,
Wherein Thy servants meet;
And Thou, O Lord, art there
Thy chosen flock to greet.
We love the sacred Font,
For there the Holy Dove
To pour is ever wont
His blessing from above.
We love Thine Altar, Lord;
Oh what on earth so dear?
For there, in faith adored,
We find Thy Presence near.
We love the Word of Life,
The Word that tells of peace,
Of comfort in the strife,
And joys that never cease.
We love to sing below
For mercies freely given;
But oh! we long to know
The triumph-song of heaven.
Lord Jesus, give us grace
On earth to love Thee more,
In heaven to see Thy face,
And with Thy Saints adore.
GLORIOUS things of thee are spoken,
Sion, city of our God;
He Whose word cannot be broken,
Formed thee for His own abode.
On the Rock of Ages founded,
What can shake thy sure repose?
With salvation's walls surrounded,
Thou may'st smile at all thy foes.
See, the streams of living waters,
Springing from eternal love,
Well supply thy sons and daughters,
And all fear of want remove;
Who can faint while such a river
Ever flows their thirst t' assuage?
Grace, which like the Lord the giver,
Never fails from age to age.
Saviour, if of Sion's city
I through grace a member am,
Let the world deride or pity,
I will glory in Thy Name;
Fading is the worldling's pleasure,
All his boasted pomp and show;
Solid joys and lasting treasure,
None but Sion's children know. Amen.
The Christian Altar.
ONCE, only once, and once for all,
His precious life He gave;
Before the Cross our spirits fall,
And own it strong to save.
One offering, single and complete,
With lips and heart we say,
But what He never can repeat,
He shows forth day by day.
For, as the priest of Aaron's line,
Within the Holiest stood,
And sprinkled all the mercy-shrine
With sacrificial blood;
So He, Who once atonement wrought,
Our Priest of endless power,
Presents Himself for those He bought
In that dark noontide hour.
His Manhood pleads where now it lives
On heaven's eternal throne,
And where in mystic rite He gives
Its Presence to His own.
And so we shew Thy death, O Lord,
Till Thou again appear;
And feel, when we approach Thy Board,
We have an Altar here.
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