He wrought by weight and measure,
And I was with Him then;
Myself the Father's pleasure,
And mine the sons of men.

3 Thus wisdom's words discover
Thy glory and Thy grace,
Thou everlasting lover
Of our unworthy race!
Thy gracious eye survey'd us
Ere stars were seen above;
In wisdom Thou hast made us,
And died for us in love.

4 And could'st Thou be delighted
With creatures such as we,
Who, when we saw Thee, slighted,
And nail'd Thee to a tree?
Unfathomable wonder,

And mystery divine!

The voice that speaks in thunder,

Says, "Sinner, I am thine."

RESIGNATION

Cowper.

I

FATHER! whatever

ATHER! whate'er of earthly bliss

Accepted at Thy throne of grace
Let this petition rise:

2 Give me a calm, a thankful heart,
From every murmur free ;

The blessings of Thy grace impart,
And let me live to Thee.

3 Let the sweet hope that Thou art mine, My life and death attend;

Thy presence through my journey shine, And crown my journey's end.

I

Steele.

THY WAY-NOT MINE.

THY way-not mine, O Lord,

However dark it be;

Lead me by Thine own hand;
Choose out the path for me.

Smooth let it be, or rough,
It will be still the best;
Winding or straight, it matters not,
It leads me to Thy rest.

3 I dare not choose my lot;
I would not if I might;
Choose Thou for me, my God,
So shall I walk aright.

4 The kingdom that I seek,
Is Thine, so let the way
That leads to it be Thine,
Else surely I might stray.

5 Take Thou my cup, and it
With joy or sorrow fill,
As best to Thee may seem,
Choose Thou my good and ill.

6 Choose Thou for me my friends,
My sickness, or my health;
Choose Thou my cares for me,
My poverty, or wealth.

7 Not mine, not mine the choice,
In things or great or small;
Be Thou my Guide, my Strength,
My Wisdom and my All.

H. Bonar.

I

EVENING SONG FOR THE SABBATH-DAY.

MILLIONS within Thy courts have met,

Millions this day before Thee bow'd, Their faces Zion-ward were set,

Vows with their lips to Thee they vow'd. 2 But Thou, soul-searching God, hast known The hearts of all that bent the knee, And hast accepted those alone,

In spirit and truth that worshipped Thee.

3 People of many a tribe and tongue,

Men of strange colours, climates, lands,
Have heard Thy truth, Thy glory sung,
And offer'd prayer with holy hands.
4 Still, as the light of morning broke,
O'er island, continent, or deep,
Thy far-spread family awoke,

Sabbath all round the world to keep.

5 From east to west, the sun survey'd

From north to south, adoring throngs; And still, where evening stretch'd her shade, The stars came forth to hear their songs.

6 Harmonious as the winds and seas,

In halcyon hours, when storms are flown, Arose earth's Babel languages,

In pure accordance to Thy throne.

7 Not angel-trumpets sound more clear, Not elders' harps, nor seraphs' lays, Yield sweeter music to Thine ear

Than humble prayer and thankful praise. 8 And not a prayer, a tear, a sigh,

Hath fail'd this day some suit to gain;
To those in trouble Thou wert nigh;
Not one hath sought Thy face in vain.

9 Thy poor were bountifully fed,

Thy chasten'd sons have kiss'd the rod; Thy mourners have been comforted;

The pure in heart have seen their God.

10 Yet one prayer more—and be it one

In which both heaven and earth accord; Fulfil Thy promise to Thy Son,

I

Let all that breathe call Jesus Lord!
James Montgomery.

THE CONTRITE HEART-ISA. LVII. 15.

HE Lord will happiness divine
On contrite hearts bestow;

Then tell me, gracious God, is mine
A contrite heart or no?

2 I hear, but seem to hear in vain,
Insensible as steel;

If aught is felt 'tis only pain,
To find I cannot feel.

3 I sometimes think myself inclin'd
To love Thee, if I could;
But often feel another mind,

Averse to all that's good.

4 My best desires are faint and few,
I fain would strive for more;
But when I cry, "My strength renew,"
Seem weaker than before.

5 Thy saints are comforted, I know,
And love Thy house of prayer:
I therefore go where others go,
But find no comfort there.

6 Oh! make this heart rejoice or ache;
Decide this doubt for me;

And if it be not broken, break
And heal it, if it be.

Cowper.

I

HYMN FOR A SEASON OF SICKNESS.

H

E who hath all to give is ever near, Therefore, poor pilgrim, be thou of good cheer;

Though outward help and succour be denied, The Lord Himself shall for thy wants provide.

2 Though with His saints on earth thou can'st not meet,

With Him thou yet mayst hold communion sweet;
To Him in humble trust commit thy care,
He will thy sorrows and thy burden bear.

3 He knows thy frame, remembers thou art dust; In such a Saviour's love how sweet to trust; His covenanted mercies are secure,

His faithful promises shall all endure.