In Thy sacred temple hear me,
When in penitence I bend;
Through the silent night be near me,
When my sighs to Thee ascend.
With the early songs of morning,
Strains of gratitude arise;
At the evening's solemn warning,
Prayer and praises seek the skies.
2 On the mountain, by the river,
Wheresoe'er Thy sun may shine;
Thine their glory, Thou the giver,
All their beauty, Lord! is Thine.
Gazing on the midnight heaven,
And the countless star-beams there;
Reverent thanks to Thee are given,
Since Thou still regardest prayer.
3 Silent thoughts for grace and blessing, Rise amid the din of men ;
These my fainting powers confessing,
Thou alone, canst give me then.
When blest gleams of joy I borrow,
'Tis Thy mercy cheers my soul;
In the hour of strife and sorrow,
Thou their raging canst control.
4 In the day of self-denial,
In my fainting spirit's need;
In the time of fiery trial,
Father! Saviour! hear and heed.
Living is not life without Thee,
Thou my being and my breathWith Thy presence round about me, I shall live with Thee in death!
In this world of conflict straying,
Wheresoe'er my lot may be :
Ever thankful, ever praying,
Ever praying, Lord! to Thee.
"LET ME GO: FOR THE DAY BREAKETH."
Cfondest mother, drown'd in woe;
EASE here longer to detain me,
Now thy kind caresses pain me,
Morn advances,-Let me go.
See yon orient streak appearing!
Harbinger of endless day :
Hark! a voice the darkness cheering,
Calls my new-born soul away!
3 "Lately launched a trembling stranger,
On the world's wide boisterous flood,
Pierc'd with sorrow, toss'd with danger,
Gladly I return to God.
4 Now my cries shall cease to grieve thee,
Now my trembling heart find rest :
Kinder arms than thine receive me,
Softer pillow than thy breast.
5 "Weep not o'er these eyes that languish,
Upward turning toward their Home;
Raptur'd they'll forget all anguish,
While they wait to see thee come.
6"There, my mother, pleasures centre,—
Weeping, parting, care, or Woe,
Ne'er our Father's House shall enter-
Morn advances-Let me go.
"As through this calm, holy dawning,
Silent glides my parting breath,
To an everlasting Morning,—
Gently close my eyes in death.
8" Blessings endless, richest blessings,
Pour their streams upon thy heart!
(Though no language yet possessing,)
Breathes my spirit e'er we part.
9 "Yet to leave thee sorrowing rends me,
Though again His voice I hear,
Rise! May every grace attend thee!
Rise and seek to meet me there."
"WHOM HAVE I IN HEAVEN, BUT THEE."
REAT All in All, Thou art my rest, my home, My way is tedious, and my steps are slow Reach forth Thy helpful hand, or bid me come I am Thy child, O`teach Thy child to go: Conjoin Thy sweet commands to my desire, And I will venture, though I fall or tire.
LAST WORDS OF SAMUEL RUTHERFORD.
Glory-glory dwelleth in Immanuel's land.
HE sands of time are sinking,
The dawn of Heaven breaks,
The summer morn I've sighed for,
The fair sweet morn awakes:
Dark, dark hath been the midnight,
But dayspring is at hand,
And glory-glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.
2 Oh! well it is for ever,
Oh! well for evermore-
My nest hung in no forest
Of all this death-doomed shore:
Yea, let the vain world perish,
As from the ship we strand,
While glory-glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.
3 There the Red Rose of Sharon
Unfolds its heartmost bloom,
And fills the air of Heaven
With ravishing perfume:
Oh! to behold it blossom,
While by its fragrance fann'd
Where glory—glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.
4 The King there in His beauty,
Without a veil is seen :
It were a well-spent journey,
Though seven deaths lay between :
The Lamb, with His fair army,
Doth on Mount Zion stand,
And glory-glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.
5 Oh! Christ He is the fountain,
The deep sweet well of love!
The streams on earth I've tasted,
More deep I'll drink above:
There to an ocean fulness,
His mercy doth expand,
And glory-glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.
6 Oft in yon sea-beat prison
My Lord and I held tryst :
For Anworth was not Heaven,
And preaching was not Christ ;-
And aye, my murkiest storm-cloud
Was by a rainbow spann'd,
Caught from the glory dwelling
In Immanuel's land.
7 But flow'rs need night's cool darkness,
The moonlight and the dew;
So Christ from one who loved it,
His shining oft withdrew
And then for cause of absence
My troubled soul I scann'd-
But glory, shadeless, shineth
In Immanuel's land.
8 The little birds of Anworth,
I used to count them blest,—
Now, beside happier altars
I go to build my nest :
O'er these there broods no silence,
No graves around them stand,
For glory, deathless dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.
9 Fair Anworth, by the Solway,
To me thou still art dear,
E'en from the verge of Heaven,
I drop for thee a tear.
Oh! if one soul from Anworth
Meet me at God's right hand,
My Heaven will be two Heavens,
In Immanuel's land.
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