PRAYER

O dwell in me, my Lord,That I in thee may dwell;Fulfill thy tender word,That thy evangels tell;In me Thou, I in thee,By thy sweet courtesy.But wilt thou my guest be,In this poor heart of mine?Thy guest? Is this for meIn that pure heart of thine?In me thou, I in thee,By thy sweet courtesy.My chamber, Lord, prepareWhither thou deignest come;I may not seek to shareThe making of thy home;In me thou, I in thee,By thy sweet courtesy.Thy gracious gifts bestow,Humility and love;O cause my heart to glowBy fire sent from above.In me thou, I in thee,By thy sweet courtesy.—Alexander B. Grosart.

O dwell in me, my Lord,That I in thee may dwell;Fulfill thy tender word,That thy evangels tell;In me Thou, I in thee,By thy sweet courtesy.

O dwell in me, my Lord,

That I in thee may dwell;

Fulfill thy tender word,

That thy evangels tell;

In me Thou, I in thee,

By thy sweet courtesy.

But wilt thou my guest be,In this poor heart of mine?Thy guest? Is this for meIn that pure heart of thine?In me thou, I in thee,By thy sweet courtesy.

But wilt thou my guest be,

In this poor heart of mine?

Thy guest? Is this for me

In that pure heart of thine?

In me thou, I in thee,

By thy sweet courtesy.

My chamber, Lord, prepareWhither thou deignest come;I may not seek to shareThe making of thy home;In me thou, I in thee,By thy sweet courtesy.

My chamber, Lord, prepare

Whither thou deignest come;

I may not seek to share

The making of thy home;

In me thou, I in thee,

By thy sweet courtesy.

Thy gracious gifts bestow,Humility and love;O cause my heart to glowBy fire sent from above.In me thou, I in thee,By thy sweet courtesy.

Thy gracious gifts bestow,

Humility and love;

O cause my heart to glow

By fire sent from above.

In me thou, I in thee,

By thy sweet courtesy.

—Alexander B. Grosart.

———

Thy name to me, thy nature grant;This, only this be given;Nothing besides my God I want,Nothing in earth or heaven.Come, Father, Son, and Holy GhostAnd seal me thine abode;Let all I am in thee be lost,Let all I am be God.—Charles Wesley.

Thy name to me, thy nature grant;This, only this be given;Nothing besides my God I want,Nothing in earth or heaven.

Thy name to me, thy nature grant;

This, only this be given;

Nothing besides my God I want,

Nothing in earth or heaven.

Come, Father, Son, and Holy GhostAnd seal me thine abode;Let all I am in thee be lost,Let all I am be God.

Come, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost

And seal me thine abode;

Let all I am in thee be lost,

Let all I am be God.

—Charles Wesley.

———

O how the thought of God attracts,And draws the heart from earth,And sickens it of passing showsAnd dissipating mirth!'Tis not enough to save our souls,To shun the eternal fires;The thought of God will rouse the heartTo more sublime desires.God only is the creature's home,Though rough and strait the road;Yet nothing less can satisfyThe love that longs for God.Oh, utter but the name of GodDown in your heart of hearts,And see how from the world at onceAll tempting light departs.A trusting heart, a yearning eyeCan win their way above;If mountains can be moved by faithIs there less power in love?How little of that road, my soul,How little hast thou gone!Take heart, and let the thought of GodAllure thee further on.Dole not thy duties out to God,But let thy hand be free;Look long at Jesus; his sweet blood—How was it dealt to thee?The perfect way is hard to flesh;It is not hard to love;If thou wert sick for want of GodHow swiftly wouldst thou move.Be docile to thine unseen Guide;Love him as he loves thee;Time and obedience are enough,And thou a saint shalt be.—Frederick William Faber.

O how the thought of God attracts,And draws the heart from earth,And sickens it of passing showsAnd dissipating mirth!

O how the thought of God attracts,

And draws the heart from earth,

And sickens it of passing shows

And dissipating mirth!

'Tis not enough to save our souls,To shun the eternal fires;The thought of God will rouse the heartTo more sublime desires.

'Tis not enough to save our souls,

To shun the eternal fires;

The thought of God will rouse the heart

To more sublime desires.

God only is the creature's home,Though rough and strait the road;Yet nothing less can satisfyThe love that longs for God.

God only is the creature's home,

Though rough and strait the road;

Yet nothing less can satisfy

The love that longs for God.

Oh, utter but the name of GodDown in your heart of hearts,And see how from the world at onceAll tempting light departs.

Oh, utter but the name of God

Down in your heart of hearts,

And see how from the world at once

All tempting light departs.

A trusting heart, a yearning eyeCan win their way above;If mountains can be moved by faithIs there less power in love?

A trusting heart, a yearning eye

Can win their way above;

If mountains can be moved by faith

Is there less power in love?

How little of that road, my soul,How little hast thou gone!Take heart, and let the thought of GodAllure thee further on.

How little of that road, my soul,

How little hast thou gone!

Take heart, and let the thought of God

Allure thee further on.

Dole not thy duties out to God,But let thy hand be free;Look long at Jesus; his sweet blood—How was it dealt to thee?

Dole not thy duties out to God,

But let thy hand be free;

Look long at Jesus; his sweet blood—

How was it dealt to thee?

The perfect way is hard to flesh;It is not hard to love;If thou wert sick for want of GodHow swiftly wouldst thou move.

The perfect way is hard to flesh;

It is not hard to love;

If thou wert sick for want of God

How swiftly wouldst thou move.

Be docile to thine unseen Guide;Love him as he loves thee;Time and obedience are enough,And thou a saint shalt be.

Be docile to thine unseen Guide;

Love him as he loves thee;

Time and obedience are enough,

And thou a saint shalt be.

—Frederick William Faber.

———

Thou broadenest out with every yearEach breadth of life to meet;I scarce can think thou art the same,Thou art so much more sweet.With gentle swiftness lead me on,Dear God, to see thy face;And meanwhile in my narrow heartO make thyself more space!—Frederick William Faber.

Thou broadenest out with every year

Each breadth of life to meet;

I scarce can think thou art the same,

Thou art so much more sweet.

With gentle swiftness lead me on,

Dear God, to see thy face;

And meanwhile in my narrow heart

O make thyself more space!

—Frederick William Faber.

———

Of all the myriad moods of mindThat through the soul come thronging,Which one was e'er so dear, so kind,So beautiful, as Longing?The thing we long for,thatwe areFor one transcendent moment,Before the Present poor and bareCan make its sneering comment.Still, through our paltry stir and strife,Glows down the wished ideal,And longing molds in clay what lifeCarves on the marble real;To let the new life in, we know,Desire must ope the portal;Perhaps the longing to be soHelps make the soul immortal.Longing is God's fresh heavenward willWith our poor earthward striving;We quench it that we may be stillContent with merely living;But, would we learn that heart's full scopeWhich we are hourly wronging,Our lives must climb from hope to hope,And realize our longing.Ah! let us hope that to our praiseGood God not only reckonsThe moments when we tread his ways,But when the spirit beckons;That some slight good is also wrought,Beyond self-satisfaction,When we are simply good in thoughtHowe'er we fail in action.—James Russell Lowell.

Of all the myriad moods of mind

That through the soul come thronging,

Which one was e'er so dear, so kind,

So beautiful, as Longing?

The thing we long for,thatwe are

For one transcendent moment,

Before the Present poor and bare

Can make its sneering comment.

Still, through our paltry stir and strife,Glows down the wished ideal,And longing molds in clay what lifeCarves on the marble real;To let the new life in, we know,Desire must ope the portal;Perhaps the longing to be soHelps make the soul immortal.

Still, through our paltry stir and strife,

Glows down the wished ideal,

And longing molds in clay what life

Carves on the marble real;

To let the new life in, we know,

Desire must ope the portal;

Perhaps the longing to be so

Helps make the soul immortal.

Longing is God's fresh heavenward willWith our poor earthward striving;We quench it that we may be stillContent with merely living;But, would we learn that heart's full scopeWhich we are hourly wronging,Our lives must climb from hope to hope,And realize our longing.

Longing is God's fresh heavenward will

With our poor earthward striving;

We quench it that we may be still

Content with merely living;

But, would we learn that heart's full scope

Which we are hourly wronging,

Our lives must climb from hope to hope,

And realize our longing.

Ah! let us hope that to our praiseGood God not only reckonsThe moments when we tread his ways,But when the spirit beckons;That some slight good is also wrought,Beyond self-satisfaction,When we are simply good in thoughtHowe'er we fail in action.

Ah! let us hope that to our praise

Good God not only reckons

The moments when we tread his ways,

But when the spirit beckons;

That some slight good is also wrought,

Beyond self-satisfaction,

When we are simply good in thought

Howe'er we fail in action.

—James Russell Lowell.

———

More holiness give me;More strivings within.More patience in suffering,More sorrow for sin.More faith in my Saviour,More sense of his care,More joy in his service,More purpose in prayer.More gratitude give me,More trust in the Lord,More pride in his glory,More hope in his word.More tears for his sorrows,More pain at his grief,More meekness in trial,More praise for relief.More purity give me,More strength to o'ercome,More freedom from earth-stains,More longings for home;More fit for the kingdom,More used I would be,More blessed and holy—More, Saviour, like thee.—Philip Paul Bliss.

More holiness give me;More strivings within.More patience in suffering,More sorrow for sin.More faith in my Saviour,More sense of his care,More joy in his service,More purpose in prayer.

More holiness give me;

More strivings within.

More patience in suffering,

More sorrow for sin.

More faith in my Saviour,

More sense of his care,

More joy in his service,

More purpose in prayer.

More gratitude give me,More trust in the Lord,More pride in his glory,More hope in his word.More tears for his sorrows,More pain at his grief,More meekness in trial,More praise for relief.

More gratitude give me,

More trust in the Lord,

More pride in his glory,

More hope in his word.

More tears for his sorrows,

More pain at his grief,

More meekness in trial,

More praise for relief.

More purity give me,More strength to o'ercome,More freedom from earth-stains,More longings for home;More fit for the kingdom,More used I would be,More blessed and holy—More, Saviour, like thee.

More purity give me,

More strength to o'ercome,

More freedom from earth-stains,

More longings for home;

More fit for the kingdom,

More used I would be,

More blessed and holy—

More, Saviour, like thee.

—Philip Paul Bliss.

———

My soul shall be a telescope,Searching the distant bounds of time and space,That somehow I may image, as I grope,Jehovah's power and grace.My soul a microscope shall be,In all minutest providences keenJehovah's patient thoughtfulness to see,And read his love between.My soul shall be a burning-glassThat diligence to worship may succeed,That I may catch God's glories as they pass,And focus to a deed.So, even so,A mote in his creation, even ISeeking alone to do, to feel, to know,The Lord must magnify.—Amos R. Wells.

My soul shall be a telescope,Searching the distant bounds of time and space,That somehow I may image, as I grope,Jehovah's power and grace.

My soul shall be a telescope,

Searching the distant bounds of time and space,

That somehow I may image, as I grope,

Jehovah's power and grace.

My soul a microscope shall be,In all minutest providences keenJehovah's patient thoughtfulness to see,And read his love between.

My soul a microscope shall be,

In all minutest providences keen

Jehovah's patient thoughtfulness to see,

And read his love between.

My soul shall be a burning-glassThat diligence to worship may succeed,That I may catch God's glories as they pass,And focus to a deed.

My soul shall be a burning-glass

That diligence to worship may succeed,

That I may catch God's glories as they pass,

And focus to a deed.

So, even so,A mote in his creation, even ISeeking alone to do, to feel, to know,The Lord must magnify.

So, even so,

A mote in his creation, even I

Seeking alone to do, to feel, to know,

The Lord must magnify.

—Amos R. Wells.

———

Lord, let me not be too contentWith life in trifling service spent—Make me aspire!When days with petty cares are filledLet me with fleeting thoughts be thrilledOf something higher!Help me to long for mental graceTo struggle with the commonplaceI daily find.May little deeds not bring to fruitA crop of little thought to suitA shriveled mind.

Lord, let me not be too contentWith life in trifling service spent—Make me aspire!When days with petty cares are filledLet me with fleeting thoughts be thrilledOf something higher!

Lord, let me not be too content

With life in trifling service spent—

Make me aspire!

When days with petty cares are filled

Let me with fleeting thoughts be thrilled

Of something higher!

Help me to long for mental graceTo struggle with the commonplaceI daily find.May little deeds not bring to fruitA crop of little thought to suitA shriveled mind.

Help me to long for mental grace

To struggle with the commonplace

I daily find.

May little deeds not bring to fruit

A crop of little thought to suit

A shriveled mind.

———

I know this earth is not my sphere,For I cannot so narrow me but thatI still exceed it.—Robert Browning.

I know this earth is not my sphere,For I cannot so narrow me but thatI still exceed it.

I know this earth is not my sphere,

For I cannot so narrow me but that

I still exceed it.

—Robert Browning.

———

Give me, O Lord, a heart of grace,A voice of joy, a smiling face,That I may show, where'er I turn,Thy love within my soul doth burn!Then life be sweet, and joy be dear,Be in my mind a quiet fear;A patient love of pain and care,An enmity to dark despair.A tenderness for all that stray,With strength to help them on their way;A cheerfulness, a heavenly mirth,Brightening my steps along the earth.I ask and shrink, yet shrink and ask;I know thou wilt not set a taskToo hard for hands that thou hast made,Too hard for hands that thou canst aid.So let me dwell all peacefully,Content to live, content to die;Rejoicing now, rejoicing then,Rejoicing evermore. Amen.—Rosa Mulholland.

Give me, O Lord, a heart of grace,A voice of joy, a smiling face,That I may show, where'er I turn,Thy love within my soul doth burn!

Give me, O Lord, a heart of grace,

A voice of joy, a smiling face,

That I may show, where'er I turn,

Thy love within my soul doth burn!

Then life be sweet, and joy be dear,Be in my mind a quiet fear;A patient love of pain and care,An enmity to dark despair.

Then life be sweet, and joy be dear,

Be in my mind a quiet fear;

A patient love of pain and care,

An enmity to dark despair.

A tenderness for all that stray,With strength to help them on their way;A cheerfulness, a heavenly mirth,Brightening my steps along the earth.

A tenderness for all that stray,

With strength to help them on their way;

A cheerfulness, a heavenly mirth,

Brightening my steps along the earth.

I ask and shrink, yet shrink and ask;I know thou wilt not set a taskToo hard for hands that thou hast made,Too hard for hands that thou canst aid.

I ask and shrink, yet shrink and ask;

I know thou wilt not set a task

Too hard for hands that thou hast made,

Too hard for hands that thou canst aid.

So let me dwell all peacefully,Content to live, content to die;Rejoicing now, rejoicing then,Rejoicing evermore. Amen.

So let me dwell all peacefully,

Content to live, content to die;

Rejoicing now, rejoicing then,

Rejoicing evermore. Amen.

—Rosa Mulholland.

———

Great God, I ask thee for no meaner pelfThan that I may not disappoint myself;That in my action I may soar as highAs I can now discern with this clear eye.And next in value which thy kindness lends,That I may greatly disappoint my friends,Howe'er they think or hope that it may be,They may not dream how thou'st distinguished me.That my weak hand may equal my firm faith,And my life practise more than my tongue saith;That my low conduct may not show,Nor my relenting lines,That I thy purpose did not know,Or overrated thy designs.—Henry David Thoreau.

Great God, I ask thee for no meaner pelfThan that I may not disappoint myself;That in my action I may soar as highAs I can now discern with this clear eye.

Great God, I ask thee for no meaner pelf

Than that I may not disappoint myself;

That in my action I may soar as high

As I can now discern with this clear eye.

And next in value which thy kindness lends,That I may greatly disappoint my friends,Howe'er they think or hope that it may be,They may not dream how thou'st distinguished me.

And next in value which thy kindness lends,

That I may greatly disappoint my friends,

Howe'er they think or hope that it may be,

They may not dream how thou'st distinguished me.

That my weak hand may equal my firm faith,And my life practise more than my tongue saith;That my low conduct may not show,Nor my relenting lines,That I thy purpose did not know,Or overrated thy designs.

That my weak hand may equal my firm faith,

And my life practise more than my tongue saith;

That my low conduct may not show,

Nor my relenting lines,

That I thy purpose did not know,

Or overrated thy designs.

—Henry David Thoreau.

———

O God of truth, for whom alone I sigh,Knit thou my heart by strong, sweet cords to thee.I tire of hearing; books my patience try;Untired to thee I cry;Thyself my all shalt be.Lord, be thou near and cheer my lonely way;With thy sweet peace my aching bosom fill;Scatter my cares and fears; my griefs allay;And be it mine each dayTo love and please thee still.My God! Thou hearest me; but clouds obscureEven yet thy perfect radiance, truth divine!O for the stainless skies, the splendors pure,The joys that aye endureWhen thine own glories shine!—Pierre Corneille.

O God of truth, for whom alone I sigh,Knit thou my heart by strong, sweet cords to thee.I tire of hearing; books my patience try;Untired to thee I cry;Thyself my all shalt be.

O God of truth, for whom alone I sigh,

Knit thou my heart by strong, sweet cords to thee.

I tire of hearing; books my patience try;

Untired to thee I cry;

Thyself my all shalt be.

Lord, be thou near and cheer my lonely way;With thy sweet peace my aching bosom fill;Scatter my cares and fears; my griefs allay;And be it mine each dayTo love and please thee still.

Lord, be thou near and cheer my lonely way;

With thy sweet peace my aching bosom fill;

Scatter my cares and fears; my griefs allay;

And be it mine each day

To love and please thee still.

My God! Thou hearest me; but clouds obscureEven yet thy perfect radiance, truth divine!O for the stainless skies, the splendors pure,The joys that aye endureWhen thine own glories shine!

My God! Thou hearest me; but clouds obscure

Even yet thy perfect radiance, truth divine!

O for the stainless skies, the splendors pure,

The joys that aye endure

When thine own glories shine!

—Pierre Corneille.

———

Lord, make me quick to seeEach task awaiting me,And quick to do;Oh, grant me strength, I pray,With lowly love each dayAnd purpose true.To go as Jesus went,Spending and being spent,Myself forgot;Supplying human needsBy loving words and deeds,Oh, happy lot!—Robert M. Offord.

Lord, make me quick to seeEach task awaiting me,And quick to do;Oh, grant me strength, I pray,With lowly love each dayAnd purpose true.

Lord, make me quick to see

Each task awaiting me,

And quick to do;

Oh, grant me strength, I pray,

With lowly love each day

And purpose true.

To go as Jesus went,Spending and being spent,Myself forgot;Supplying human needsBy loving words and deeds,Oh, happy lot!

To go as Jesus went,

Spending and being spent,

Myself forgot;

Supplying human needs

By loving words and deeds,

Oh, happy lot!

—Robert M. Offord.

———

There are deep things of God. Push out from shore;Hast thou found much? Give thanks, and look for more.Dost fear the generous Giver to offend?Then know his store of bounty hath no end.He doth not need to be implored or teased;The more we take the better he is pleased.—Charles Gordon Ames.

There are deep things of God. Push out from shore;

Hast thou found much? Give thanks, and look for more.

Dost fear the generous Giver to offend?

Then know his store of bounty hath no end.

He doth not need to be implored or teased;

The more we take the better he is pleased.

—Charles Gordon Ames.

———

Breathe on me, Breath of God,Fill me with life anew,That I may love what thou dost love,And do what thou wouldst do.Breathe on me, Breath of God,Until my heart is pure,Until with thee I will one will,To do or to endure.Breathe on me, Breath of God,Till I am wholly thine;Till all this earthly part of meGlows with thy fire divine.Breathe on me, Breath of God,So shall I never die,But live with thee the perfect lifeOf thine eternity.—Edwin Hatch.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,Fill me with life anew,That I may love what thou dost love,And do what thou wouldst do.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,

Fill me with life anew,

That I may love what thou dost love,

And do what thou wouldst do.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,Until my heart is pure,Until with thee I will one will,To do or to endure.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,

Until my heart is pure,

Until with thee I will one will,

To do or to endure.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,Till I am wholly thine;Till all this earthly part of meGlows with thy fire divine.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,

Till I am wholly thine;

Till all this earthly part of me

Glows with thy fire divine.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,So shall I never die,But live with thee the perfect lifeOf thine eternity.

Breathe on me, Breath of God,

So shall I never die,

But live with thee the perfect life

Of thine eternity.

—Edwin Hatch.

———

What weight of woe we owe to thee,Accurst comparative degree!Thy paltry step can never giveAccess to the superlative;For he who would the wisest be,Strives to make others wise as he,And never yet was man judged bestWho would be better than the rest;So does comparison unkindDwarf and debase the haughty mind.Make not a man your measuring-rodIf you would span the way to God;Heed not our petty "worse" or "less,"But fix your eyes on perfectness.Make for the loftiest point in view,And draw your friends along with you.—Amos R. Wells.

What weight of woe we owe to thee,

Accurst comparative degree!

Thy paltry step can never give

Access to the superlative;

For he who would the wisest be,

Strives to make others wise as he,

And never yet was man judged best

Who would be better than the rest;

So does comparison unkind

Dwarf and debase the haughty mind.

Make not a man your measuring-rodIf you would span the way to God;Heed not our petty "worse" or "less,"But fix your eyes on perfectness.Make for the loftiest point in view,And draw your friends along with you.

Make not a man your measuring-rod

If you would span the way to God;

Heed not our petty "worse" or "less,"

But fix your eyes on perfectness.

Make for the loftiest point in view,

And draw your friends along with you.

—Amos R. Wells.

———

Thy nature be my law,Thy spotless sanctity,And sweetly every moment drawMy happy soul to thee.Soul of my soul remain;Who didst for me fulfill,In me, O Lord, fulfill againThy heavenly Father's will.—Charles Wesley.

Thy nature be my law,Thy spotless sanctity,And sweetly every moment drawMy happy soul to thee.

Thy nature be my law,

Thy spotless sanctity,

And sweetly every moment draw

My happy soul to thee.

Soul of my soul remain;Who didst for me fulfill,In me, O Lord, fulfill againThy heavenly Father's will.

Soul of my soul remain;

Who didst for me fulfill,

In me, O Lord, fulfill again

Thy heavenly Father's will.

—Charles Wesley.

———

Jesus still lead onTill our rest be won;And although the way be cheerless,We will follow, calm and fearless;Guide us by thy handTo our Fatherland.If the way be drear,If the foe be near,Let not faithless fears o'ertake us,Let not faith and hope forsake us;For, through many a foeTo our home we go.When we seek reliefFrom a long-felt grief:When oppressed by new temptations,Lord, increase and perfect patience;Show us that bright shoreWhere we weep no more.Jesus, still lead onTill our rest be won;Heavenly Leader, still direct us,Still support, control, protect us,Till we safely standIn our Fatherland.—Nicolaus Ludwig Zinzendorf.

Jesus still lead onTill our rest be won;And although the way be cheerless,We will follow, calm and fearless;Guide us by thy handTo our Fatherland.

Jesus still lead on

Till our rest be won;

And although the way be cheerless,

We will follow, calm and fearless;

Guide us by thy hand

To our Fatherland.

If the way be drear,If the foe be near,Let not faithless fears o'ertake us,Let not faith and hope forsake us;For, through many a foeTo our home we go.

If the way be drear,

If the foe be near,

Let not faithless fears o'ertake us,

Let not faith and hope forsake us;

For, through many a foe

To our home we go.

When we seek reliefFrom a long-felt grief:When oppressed by new temptations,Lord, increase and perfect patience;Show us that bright shoreWhere we weep no more.

When we seek relief

From a long-felt grief:

When oppressed by new temptations,

Lord, increase and perfect patience;

Show us that bright shore

Where we weep no more.

Jesus, still lead onTill our rest be won;Heavenly Leader, still direct us,Still support, control, protect us,Till we safely standIn our Fatherland.

Jesus, still lead on

Till our rest be won;

Heavenly Leader, still direct us,

Still support, control, protect us,

Till we safely stand

In our Fatherland.

—Nicolaus Ludwig Zinzendorf.

———

Give me this dayA little work to occupy my mind;A little suffering to sanctifyMy spirit; and, dear Lord, if thou canst findSome little good that I may do for thee,I shall be glad, for that will comfort me.Mind, spirit, hand—I lift them all to thee.

Give me this day

A little work to occupy my mind;

A little suffering to sanctify

My spirit; and, dear Lord, if thou canst find

Some little good that I may do for thee,

I shall be glad, for that will comfort me.

Mind, spirit, hand—I lift them all to thee.

———

O make me patient, Lord,Patient in daily cares;Keep me from thoughtless words,That slip out unawares.And help me, Lord, I pray,Still nearer thee to live,And as I journey on,More of thy presence give.

O make me patient, Lord,

Patient in daily cares;

Keep me from thoughtless words,

That slip out unawares.

And help me, Lord, I pray,

Still nearer thee to live,

And as I journey on,

More of thy presence give.

———

O square thyself for use. A stone that mayFit in the wall is not left in the way.—From the Persian.

O square thyself for use. A stone that mayFit in the wall is not left in the way.

O square thyself for use. A stone that may

Fit in the wall is not left in the way.

—From the Persian.

———

Think, and be careful what thou art within,For there is sin in the desire of sin:Think and be thankful in a different case;For there is grace in the desire of grace.—George Gordon Byron.

Think, and be careful what thou art within,For there is sin in the desire of sin:Think and be thankful in a different case;For there is grace in the desire of grace.

Think, and be careful what thou art within,

For there is sin in the desire of sin:

Think and be thankful in a different case;

For there is grace in the desire of grace.

—George Gordon Byron.

———

A man's higher being is knowing and seeing;Not having or toiling for more;In the senses and soul is the joy of control,Not in pride and luxurious store.—John Boyle O'Reilly.

A man's higher being is knowing and seeing;Not having or toiling for more;In the senses and soul is the joy of control,Not in pride and luxurious store.

A man's higher being is knowing and seeing;

Not having or toiling for more;

In the senses and soul is the joy of control,

Not in pride and luxurious store.

—John Boyle O'Reilly.

———

Be with me, Lord, where'er my path may lead;Fulfill thy word, supply my every need;Help me to live each day more close to thee.And O, dear Lord, I pray abide with me.

Be with me, Lord, where'er my path may lead;

Fulfill thy word, supply my every need;

Help me to live each day more close to thee.

And O, dear Lord, I pray abide with me.

———

In all I think or speak or do,Whatever way my steps are bent,God shape and keep me strong and true,Courageous, cheerful, and content.—W. D. Russell.

In all I think or speak or do,Whatever way my steps are bent,God shape and keep me strong and true,Courageous, cheerful, and content.

In all I think or speak or do,

Whatever way my steps are bent,

God shape and keep me strong and true,

Courageous, cheerful, and content.

—W. D. Russell.

———

Make my mortal dreams come trueWith the work I fain would do:Clothe with life the weak intent,Let me be the thing I meant.—John Greenleaf Whittier.

Make my mortal dreams come trueWith the work I fain would do:Clothe with life the weak intent,Let me be the thing I meant.

Make my mortal dreams come true

With the work I fain would do:

Clothe with life the weak intent,

Let me be the thing I meant.

—John Greenleaf Whittier.

———

This be my prayer, from dawn to eve,Working between the suns;Lord, make my arm as firm as a knight'sMy soul as white as a nun's.

This be my prayer, from dawn to eve,

Working between the suns;

Lord, make my arm as firm as a knight's

My soul as white as a nun's.

———

Every hour that fleets so slowly has its task to do or bear;Luminous the crown and holy, if we set each gem with care.

Every hour that fleets so slowly has its task to do or bear;

Luminous the crown and holy, if we set each gem with care.

———

O for a man to rise in me,That the man that I amMay cease to be.—Alfred Tennyson.

O for a man to rise in me,That the man that I amMay cease to be.

O for a man to rise in me,

That the man that I am

May cease to be.

—Alfred Tennyson.

Father of all! in every age,In ev'ry clime adored,By saint, by savage, and by sage,Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!Thou great First Cause, least understood,Who all my sense confinedTo know but this, that thou art good,And that myself am blind:Yet gave me, in this dark estate,To see the good from ill;And binding nature fast in fate,Left free the human will.What conscience dictates to be done,Or warns me not to do,This, teach me more than hell to shun,That, more than heaven pursue.What blessings thy free bounty givesLet me not cast away;For God is paid when man receives—T' enjoy is to obey.Yet not to earth's contracted spanThy goodness let me bound;Or think thee Lord alone of manWhen thousand worlds are round;Let not this weak, unknowing handPresume thy bolts to throw,And deal damnation round the landOn each I judge thy foe.If I am right, thy grace impartStill in the right to stay;If I am wrong, O teach my heartTo find that better way.Save me alike from foolish prideOr impious discontent,At aught thy wisdom has deniedOr aught thy wisdom lent.Teach me to feel another's woe;To hide the fault I see;That mercy I to others show,That mercy show to me.Mean though I am, not wholly soSince quicken'd by thy breath;O lead me wheresoe'er I go,Through this day's life or death.This day be bread and peace my lot:All else beneath the sunThou know'st if best bestowed or not;And let thy will be done.To Thee, whose temple is all space,Whose altar earth, sea, skies!One chorus let all Being raise,All Nature's incense rise!—Alexander Pope.

Father of all! in every age,In ev'ry clime adored,By saint, by savage, and by sage,Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Father of all! in every age,

In ev'ry clime adored,

By saint, by savage, and by sage,

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Thou great First Cause, least understood,Who all my sense confinedTo know but this, that thou art good,And that myself am blind:

Thou great First Cause, least understood,

Who all my sense confined

To know but this, that thou art good,

And that myself am blind:

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,To see the good from ill;And binding nature fast in fate,Left free the human will.

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,

To see the good from ill;

And binding nature fast in fate,

Left free the human will.

What conscience dictates to be done,Or warns me not to do,This, teach me more than hell to shun,That, more than heaven pursue.

What conscience dictates to be done,

Or warns me not to do,

This, teach me more than hell to shun,

That, more than heaven pursue.

What blessings thy free bounty givesLet me not cast away;For God is paid when man receives—T' enjoy is to obey.

What blessings thy free bounty gives

Let me not cast away;

For God is paid when man receives—

T' enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to earth's contracted spanThy goodness let me bound;Or think thee Lord alone of manWhen thousand worlds are round;

Yet not to earth's contracted span

Thy goodness let me bound;

Or think thee Lord alone of man

When thousand worlds are round;

Let not this weak, unknowing handPresume thy bolts to throw,And deal damnation round the landOn each I judge thy foe.

Let not this weak, unknowing hand

Presume thy bolts to throw,

And deal damnation round the land

On each I judge thy foe.

If I am right, thy grace impartStill in the right to stay;If I am wrong, O teach my heartTo find that better way.

If I am right, thy grace impart

Still in the right to stay;

If I am wrong, O teach my heart

To find that better way.

Save me alike from foolish prideOr impious discontent,At aught thy wisdom has deniedOr aught thy wisdom lent.

Save me alike from foolish pride

Or impious discontent,

At aught thy wisdom has denied

Or aught thy wisdom lent.

Teach me to feel another's woe;To hide the fault I see;That mercy I to others show,That mercy show to me.

Teach me to feel another's woe;

To hide the fault I see;

That mercy I to others show,

That mercy show to me.

Mean though I am, not wholly soSince quicken'd by thy breath;O lead me wheresoe'er I go,Through this day's life or death.

Mean though I am, not wholly so

Since quicken'd by thy breath;

O lead me wheresoe'er I go,

Through this day's life or death.

This day be bread and peace my lot:All else beneath the sunThou know'st if best bestowed or not;And let thy will be done.

This day be bread and peace my lot:

All else beneath the sun

Thou know'st if best bestowed or not;

And let thy will be done.

To Thee, whose temple is all space,Whose altar earth, sea, skies!One chorus let all Being raise,All Nature's incense rise!

To Thee, whose temple is all space,

Whose altar earth, sea, skies!

One chorus let all Being raise,

All Nature's incense rise!

—Alexander Pope.

———

My God, is any hour so sweet,From blush of morn to evening star,As that which calls me to thy feet:The hour of prayer?Blest is that tranquil hour of morn,And blest that solemn hour of eve,When, on the wings of prayer upborne,The world I leave.Then is my strength by thee renewed;Then are my sins by thee forgiven;Then dost thou cheer my solitudeWith hopes of heaven.No words can tell what sweet reliefHere for my every want I find;What strength for warfare, balm for grief,What peace of mind.Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear;My spirit seems in heaven to stay;And e'en the penitential tearIs wiped away.Lord, till I reach that blissful shore,No privilege so dear shall beAs thus my inmost soul to pourIn prayer to thee.—Charlotte Elliott.

My God, is any hour so sweet,From blush of morn to evening star,As that which calls me to thy feet:The hour of prayer?

My God, is any hour so sweet,

From blush of morn to evening star,

As that which calls me to thy feet:

The hour of prayer?

Blest is that tranquil hour of morn,And blest that solemn hour of eve,When, on the wings of prayer upborne,The world I leave.

Blest is that tranquil hour of morn,

And blest that solemn hour of eve,

When, on the wings of prayer upborne,

The world I leave.

Then is my strength by thee renewed;Then are my sins by thee forgiven;Then dost thou cheer my solitudeWith hopes of heaven.

Then is my strength by thee renewed;

Then are my sins by thee forgiven;

Then dost thou cheer my solitude

With hopes of heaven.

No words can tell what sweet reliefHere for my every want I find;What strength for warfare, balm for grief,What peace of mind.

No words can tell what sweet relief

Here for my every want I find;

What strength for warfare, balm for grief,

What peace of mind.

Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear;My spirit seems in heaven to stay;And e'en the penitential tearIs wiped away.

Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear;

My spirit seems in heaven to stay;

And e'en the penitential tear

Is wiped away.

Lord, till I reach that blissful shore,No privilege so dear shall beAs thus my inmost soul to pourIn prayer to thee.

Lord, till I reach that blissful shore,

No privilege so dear shall be

As thus my inmost soul to pour

In prayer to thee.

—Charlotte Elliott.

———

Be not afraid to pray—to pray is right.Pray, if thou canst, with hope; but ever pray,Though hope be weak or sick with long delay;Pray in the darkness if there be no light.Far is the time, remote from human sight,When war and discord on the earth shall cease;Yet every prayer for universal peaceAvails the blessed time to expedite.Whate'er is good to wish, ask that of heaven,Though it be what thou canst not hope to see.Pray to be perfect, though material leavenForbid the spirit so on earth to be;But if for any wish thou darest not pray,Then pray to God to cast that wish away.—Hartley Coleridge.

Be not afraid to pray—to pray is right.Pray, if thou canst, with hope; but ever pray,Though hope be weak or sick with long delay;Pray in the darkness if there be no light.

Be not afraid to pray—to pray is right.

Pray, if thou canst, with hope; but ever pray,

Though hope be weak or sick with long delay;

Pray in the darkness if there be no light.

Far is the time, remote from human sight,When war and discord on the earth shall cease;Yet every prayer for universal peaceAvails the blessed time to expedite.

Far is the time, remote from human sight,

When war and discord on the earth shall cease;

Yet every prayer for universal peace

Avails the blessed time to expedite.

Whate'er is good to wish, ask that of heaven,Though it be what thou canst not hope to see.Pray to be perfect, though material leavenForbid the spirit so on earth to be;But if for any wish thou darest not pray,Then pray to God to cast that wish away.

Whate'er is good to wish, ask that of heaven,

Though it be what thou canst not hope to see.

Pray to be perfect, though material leaven

Forbid the spirit so on earth to be;

But if for any wish thou darest not pray,

Then pray to God to cast that wish away.

—Hartley Coleridge.

———

Unanswered yet the prayer your lips have pleadedIn agony of heart these many years?Does faith begin to fail? Is hope departing?And think you all in vain those falling tears?Say not the Father hath not heard your prayer;You shall have your desire sometime, somewhere.Unanswered yet?—though when you first presentedThis one petition at the Father's throneIt seemed you could not wait the time of asking,So urgent was your heart to make it known!Though years have passed since then, do not despair;The Lord will answer you sometime, somewhere.Unanswered yet? Nay, do not say ungranted;Perhaps your work is not yet wholly done.The work began when first your prayer was uttered,And God will finish what he has begun.If you will keep the incense burning thereHis glory you shall see sometime, somewhere.Unanswered yet? Faith cannot be unanswered,Her feet were firmly planted on the Rock;Amid the wildest storms she stands undaunted,Nor quails before the loudest thunder shock.She knows Omnipotence has heard her prayer,And cries, "It shall be done"—sometime, somewhere.—Miss Ophelia G. Browning.

Unanswered yet the prayer your lips have pleaded

In agony of heart these many years?

Does faith begin to fail? Is hope departing?

And think you all in vain those falling tears?

Say not the Father hath not heard your prayer;

You shall have your desire sometime, somewhere.

Unanswered yet?—though when you first presentedThis one petition at the Father's throneIt seemed you could not wait the time of asking,So urgent was your heart to make it known!Though years have passed since then, do not despair;The Lord will answer you sometime, somewhere.

Unanswered yet?—though when you first presented

This one petition at the Father's throne

It seemed you could not wait the time of asking,

So urgent was your heart to make it known!

Though years have passed since then, do not despair;

The Lord will answer you sometime, somewhere.

Unanswered yet? Nay, do not say ungranted;Perhaps your work is not yet wholly done.The work began when first your prayer was uttered,And God will finish what he has begun.If you will keep the incense burning thereHis glory you shall see sometime, somewhere.

Unanswered yet? Nay, do not say ungranted;

Perhaps your work is not yet wholly done.

The work began when first your prayer was uttered,

And God will finish what he has begun.

If you will keep the incense burning there

His glory you shall see sometime, somewhere.

Unanswered yet? Faith cannot be unanswered,Her feet were firmly planted on the Rock;Amid the wildest storms she stands undaunted,Nor quails before the loudest thunder shock.She knows Omnipotence has heard her prayer,And cries, "It shall be done"—sometime, somewhere.

Unanswered yet? Faith cannot be unanswered,

Her feet were firmly planted on the Rock;

Amid the wildest storms she stands undaunted,

Nor quails before the loudest thunder shock.

She knows Omnipotence has heard her prayer,

And cries, "It shall be done"—sometime, somewhere.

—Miss Ophelia G. Browning.

———

Lord, I have shut my door—Shut out life's busy cares and fretting noise,Here in this silence they intrude no more.Speak thou, and heavenly joysShall fill my heart with music sweet and calm—A holy psalm.Yes, I have shut my door,Even on all the beauty of thine earth—To its blue ceiling, from its emerald floor,Filled with spring's bloom and mirth;From these, thy works, I turn; thyself I seek;To thee I speak.And I have shut my doorOn earthly passion—all its yearning love,Its tender friendships, all the priceless storeOf human ties. AboveAll these my heart aspires, O Heart divine!Stoop thou to mine.Lord, I have shut my door!Come thou and visit me: I am alone!Come as when doors were shut thou cam'st of yoreAnd visited thine own.My Lord, I kneel with reverence, love, and fear,For thou art here.—Mary Ellen Atkinson.

Lord, I have shut my door—

Shut out life's busy cares and fretting noise,

Here in this silence they intrude no more.

Speak thou, and heavenly joys

Shall fill my heart with music sweet and calm—

A holy psalm.

Yes, I have shut my door,Even on all the beauty of thine earth—To its blue ceiling, from its emerald floor,Filled with spring's bloom and mirth;From these, thy works, I turn; thyself I seek;To thee I speak.

Yes, I have shut my door,

Even on all the beauty of thine earth—

To its blue ceiling, from its emerald floor,

Filled with spring's bloom and mirth;

From these, thy works, I turn; thyself I seek;

To thee I speak.

And I have shut my doorOn earthly passion—all its yearning love,Its tender friendships, all the priceless storeOf human ties. AboveAll these my heart aspires, O Heart divine!Stoop thou to mine.

And I have shut my door

On earthly passion—all its yearning love,

Its tender friendships, all the priceless store

Of human ties. Above

All these my heart aspires, O Heart divine!

Stoop thou to mine.

Lord, I have shut my door!Come thou and visit me: I am alone!Come as when doors were shut thou cam'st of yoreAnd visited thine own.My Lord, I kneel with reverence, love, and fear,For thou art here.

Lord, I have shut my door!

Come thou and visit me: I am alone!

Come as when doors were shut thou cam'st of yore

And visited thine own.

My Lord, I kneel with reverence, love, and fear,

For thou art here.

—Mary Ellen Atkinson.

———

The homely words—how often read!How seldom fully known:"Which father of you, asked for bread,Would give his son a stone?"How oft has bitter tear been shed,And heaved how many a groan,Because thou wouldst not give for breadThe thing that was a stone!How oft the child thou wouldst have fedThy gift away has thrown;He prayed, thou heardst, and gavest bread—He cried, "It is a stone!"Lord, if I ask in doubt and dread,Lest I be left to moan,Am I not he, who, asked for bread,Would give his son a stone?—George Macdonald.

The homely words—how often read!How seldom fully known:"Which father of you, asked for bread,Would give his son a stone?"

The homely words—how often read!

How seldom fully known:

"Which father of you, asked for bread,

Would give his son a stone?"

How oft has bitter tear been shed,And heaved how many a groan,Because thou wouldst not give for breadThe thing that was a stone!

How oft has bitter tear been shed,

And heaved how many a groan,

Because thou wouldst not give for bread

The thing that was a stone!

How oft the child thou wouldst have fedThy gift away has thrown;He prayed, thou heardst, and gavest bread—He cried, "It is a stone!"

How oft the child thou wouldst have fed

Thy gift away has thrown;

He prayed, thou heardst, and gavest bread—

He cried, "It is a stone!"

Lord, if I ask in doubt and dread,Lest I be left to moan,Am I not he, who, asked for bread,Would give his son a stone?

Lord, if I ask in doubt and dread,

Lest I be left to moan,

Am I not he, who, asked for bread,

Would give his son a stone?

—George Macdonald.

———

I want so many, many things,My wishes on my prayers take wings,And heavenward fly to sue for graceBefore the loving Father's face.But He, well knowing all my need,Kindly rebukes my foolish greed,And, granting not the gift I ask,Sets me instead to do some task—Some lowly task—for love of him,So lowly, and in light so dim,My sorrowing soul must cease to sing,And only sigh, "'Tis for the King."And scarcely can my faith repeatHer sad petition at his feet:"These daily tasks Thou giv'st to me,Help, Lord, to do as unto thee!"Yet while his bidding thus I do—I know not how, or why, 'tis true—My thoughts to sweet contentment glide,And I forget the wish denied.And so my prayers he hears and heeds,Mindful of all my daily needs;Gracious, most gracious, too, in this—Denying, when I ask amiss.—Luella Clark.

I want so many, many things,My wishes on my prayers take wings,And heavenward fly to sue for graceBefore the loving Father's face.

I want so many, many things,

My wishes on my prayers take wings,

And heavenward fly to sue for grace

Before the loving Father's face.

But He, well knowing all my need,Kindly rebukes my foolish greed,And, granting not the gift I ask,Sets me instead to do some task—

But He, well knowing all my need,

Kindly rebukes my foolish greed,

And, granting not the gift I ask,

Sets me instead to do some task—

Some lowly task—for love of him,So lowly, and in light so dim,My sorrowing soul must cease to sing,And only sigh, "'Tis for the King."

Some lowly task—for love of him,

So lowly, and in light so dim,

My sorrowing soul must cease to sing,

And only sigh, "'Tis for the King."

And scarcely can my faith repeatHer sad petition at his feet:"These daily tasks Thou giv'st to me,Help, Lord, to do as unto thee!"

And scarcely can my faith repeat

Her sad petition at his feet:

"These daily tasks Thou giv'st to me,

Help, Lord, to do as unto thee!"

Yet while his bidding thus I do—I know not how, or why, 'tis true—My thoughts to sweet contentment glide,And I forget the wish denied.

Yet while his bidding thus I do—

I know not how, or why, 'tis true—

My thoughts to sweet contentment glide,

And I forget the wish denied.

And so my prayers he hears and heeds,Mindful of all my daily needs;Gracious, most gracious, too, in this—Denying, when I ask amiss.

And so my prayers he hears and heeds,

Mindful of all my daily needs;

Gracious, most gracious, too, in this—

Denying, when I ask amiss.

—Luella Clark.

———

If when I kneel to pray,With eager lips I say:"Lord, give me all the things that I desire—Health, wealth, fame, friends, brave heart, religious fire,The power to sway my fellow men at will,And strength for mighty works to banish ill"—In such a prayer as thisThe blessing I must miss.Or if I only dareTo raise this fainting prayer:"Thou seest, Lord, that I am poor and weak,And cannot tell what things I ought to seek;I therefore do not ask at all, but stillI trust thy bounty all my wants to fill"—My lips shall thus grow dumb,The blessing shall not come.But if I lowly fall,And thus in faith I call:"Through Christ, O Lord, I pray thee give to meNot what I would, but what seems best to theeOf life, of health, of service, and of strength,Until to thy full joy I come at length"—My prayer shall then avail;The blessing shall not fail.—Charles F. Richardson.

If when I kneel to pray,

With eager lips I say:

"Lord, give me all the things that I desire—

Health, wealth, fame, friends, brave heart, religious fire,

The power to sway my fellow men at will,

And strength for mighty works to banish ill"—

In such a prayer as this

The blessing I must miss.

Or if I only dareTo raise this fainting prayer:"Thou seest, Lord, that I am poor and weak,And cannot tell what things I ought to seek;I therefore do not ask at all, but stillI trust thy bounty all my wants to fill"—My lips shall thus grow dumb,The blessing shall not come.

Or if I only dare

To raise this fainting prayer:

"Thou seest, Lord, that I am poor and weak,

And cannot tell what things I ought to seek;

I therefore do not ask at all, but still

I trust thy bounty all my wants to fill"—

My lips shall thus grow dumb,

The blessing shall not come.

But if I lowly fall,And thus in faith I call:"Through Christ, O Lord, I pray thee give to meNot what I would, but what seems best to theeOf life, of health, of service, and of strength,Until to thy full joy I come at length"—My prayer shall then avail;The blessing shall not fail.

But if I lowly fall,

And thus in faith I call:

"Through Christ, O Lord, I pray thee give to me

Not what I would, but what seems best to thee

Of life, of health, of service, and of strength,

Until to thy full joy I come at length"—

My prayer shall then avail;

The blessing shall not fail.

—Charles F. Richardson.

———

Teach me, dear Lord, what thou wouldst have me know;Guide me, dear Lord, where thou wouldst have me go;Help me, dear Lord, the precious seed to sow;Bless thou the seed that it may surely grow.

Teach me, dear Lord, what thou wouldst have me know;

Guide me, dear Lord, where thou wouldst have me go;

Help me, dear Lord, the precious seed to sow;

Bless thou the seed that it may surely grow.

———

When is the time for prayer?With the first beams that light the morning sky,Ere for the toils of day thou dost prepare,Lift up thy thoughts on high;Commend thy loved ones to his watchful care:Morn is the time for prayer!And in the noontide hour,If worn by toil or by sad care oppressed,Then unto God thy spirit's sorrows pour,And he will give thee rest:Thy voice shall reach him through the fields of air:Noon is the time for prayer!When the bright sun hath set,Whilst yet eve's glowing colors deck the skies,When with the loved, at home, again thou'st met,Then let thy prayers ariseFor those who in thy joys and sorrows share:Eve is the time for prayer!And when the stars come forth—When to the trusting heart sweet hopes are givenAnd the deep stillness of the hour gives birthTo pure bright dreams of heaven—Kneel to thy God; ask strength life's ills to bear:Night is the time for prayer.When is the time for prayer?In every hour, while life is spared to thee—In crowds or solitude—in joy or care—Thy thoughts should heavenward flee.At home—at morn and eve—with loved ones there,Bend thou the knee in prayer!

When is the time for prayer?

With the first beams that light the morning sky,

Ere for the toils of day thou dost prepare,

Lift up thy thoughts on high;

Commend thy loved ones to his watchful care:

Morn is the time for prayer!

And in the noontide hour,If worn by toil or by sad care oppressed,Then unto God thy spirit's sorrows pour,And he will give thee rest:Thy voice shall reach him through the fields of air:Noon is the time for prayer!

And in the noontide hour,

If worn by toil or by sad care oppressed,

Then unto God thy spirit's sorrows pour,

And he will give thee rest:

Thy voice shall reach him through the fields of air:

Noon is the time for prayer!

When the bright sun hath set,Whilst yet eve's glowing colors deck the skies,When with the loved, at home, again thou'st met,Then let thy prayers ariseFor those who in thy joys and sorrows share:Eve is the time for prayer!

When the bright sun hath set,

Whilst yet eve's glowing colors deck the skies,

When with the loved, at home, again thou'st met,

Then let thy prayers arise

For those who in thy joys and sorrows share:

Eve is the time for prayer!

And when the stars come forth—When to the trusting heart sweet hopes are givenAnd the deep stillness of the hour gives birthTo pure bright dreams of heaven—Kneel to thy God; ask strength life's ills to bear:Night is the time for prayer.

And when the stars come forth—

When to the trusting heart sweet hopes are given

And the deep stillness of the hour gives birth

To pure bright dreams of heaven—

Kneel to thy God; ask strength life's ills to bear:

Night is the time for prayer.

When is the time for prayer?In every hour, while life is spared to thee—In crowds or solitude—in joy or care—Thy thoughts should heavenward flee.At home—at morn and eve—with loved ones there,Bend thou the knee in prayer!

When is the time for prayer?

In every hour, while life is spared to thee—

In crowds or solitude—in joy or care—

Thy thoughts should heavenward flee.

At home—at morn and eve—with loved ones there,

Bend thou the knee in prayer!

———

Not a sound invades the stillness,Not a form invades the scene,Save the voice of my Belovèd,And the person of my King.And within those heavenly places,Calmly hushed in sweet repose,There I drink, with joy absorbing,All the love thou wouldst disclose.Wrapt in deep adoring silence,Jesus, Lord, I dare not move,Lest I lose the smallest sayingMeant to catch the ear of love.Rest, then, O my soul, contented:Thou hast reached thy happy placeIn the bosom of thy Saviour,Gazing up in his dear face.

Not a sound invades the stillness,Not a form invades the scene,Save the voice of my Belovèd,And the person of my King.

Not a sound invades the stillness,

Not a form invades the scene,

Save the voice of my Belovèd,

And the person of my King.

And within those heavenly places,Calmly hushed in sweet repose,There I drink, with joy absorbing,All the love thou wouldst disclose.

And within those heavenly places,

Calmly hushed in sweet repose,

There I drink, with joy absorbing,

All the love thou wouldst disclose.

Wrapt in deep adoring silence,Jesus, Lord, I dare not move,Lest I lose the smallest sayingMeant to catch the ear of love.

Wrapt in deep adoring silence,

Jesus, Lord, I dare not move,

Lest I lose the smallest saying

Meant to catch the ear of love.

Rest, then, O my soul, contented:Thou hast reached thy happy placeIn the bosom of thy Saviour,Gazing up in his dear face.

Rest, then, O my soul, contented:

Thou hast reached thy happy place

In the bosom of thy Saviour,

Gazing up in his dear face.

———

I often say my prayers,But do I ever pray;And do the wishes of my heartGo with the words I say?I may as well kneel downAnd worship gods of stone,As offer to the living GodA prayer of words alone.For words without the heartThe Lord will never hear:Nor will he to those lips attendWhose prayers are not sincere.—John Burton.

I often say my prayers,But do I ever pray;And do the wishes of my heartGo with the words I say?

I often say my prayers,

But do I ever pray;

And do the wishes of my heart

Go with the words I say?

I may as well kneel downAnd worship gods of stone,As offer to the living GodA prayer of words alone.

I may as well kneel down

And worship gods of stone,

As offer to the living God

A prayer of words alone.

For words without the heartThe Lord will never hear:Nor will he to those lips attendWhose prayers are not sincere.

For words without the heart

The Lord will never hear:

Nor will he to those lips attend

Whose prayers are not sincere.

—John Burton.

———

What various hindrances we meetIn coming to a mercy-seat!Yet who that knows the worth of prayerBut wishes to be often there!Prayer makes the darkened cloud withdraw;Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw;Gives exercise to faith and love;Brings every blessing from above.Restraining prayer, we cease to fight;Prayer keeps the Christian's armor bright;And Satan trembles when he seesThe weakest saint upon his knees.Were half the breath that's vainly spentTo heaven in supplication sent,Our cheerful song would oftener be"Hear what the Lord has done for me."—William Cowper.

What various hindrances we meetIn coming to a mercy-seat!Yet who that knows the worth of prayerBut wishes to be often there!

What various hindrances we meet

In coming to a mercy-seat!

Yet who that knows the worth of prayer

But wishes to be often there!

Prayer makes the darkened cloud withdraw;Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw;Gives exercise to faith and love;Brings every blessing from above.

Prayer makes the darkened cloud withdraw;

Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw;

Gives exercise to faith and love;

Brings every blessing from above.

Restraining prayer, we cease to fight;Prayer keeps the Christian's armor bright;And Satan trembles when he seesThe weakest saint upon his knees.

Restraining prayer, we cease to fight;

Prayer keeps the Christian's armor bright;

And Satan trembles when he sees

The weakest saint upon his knees.

Were half the breath that's vainly spentTo heaven in supplication sent,Our cheerful song would oftener be"Hear what the Lord has done for me."

Were half the breath that's vainly spent

To heaven in supplication sent,

Our cheerful song would oftener be

"Hear what the Lord has done for me."

—William Cowper.

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Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,Uttered or unexpressed;The motion of a hidden fireThat trembles in the breast.Prayer is the burden of a sigh,The falling of a tear,The upward glancing of an eye,When none but God is near.Prayer is the simplest form of speechThat infant lips can try;Prayer the sublimest strains that reachThe Majesty on high.Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,Returning from his ways;While angels in their songs rejoiceAnd cry, "Behold, he prays!"Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,The Christian's native air,His watchword at the gates of death;He enters heaven with prayer.O Thou, by whom we come to God,The Life, the Truth, the Way;The path of prayer thyself hast trod:Lord, teach us how to pray!—James Montgomery.

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,Uttered or unexpressed;The motion of a hidden fireThat trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,

Uttered or unexpressed;

The motion of a hidden fire

That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the burden of a sigh,The falling of a tear,The upward glancing of an eye,When none but God is near.

Prayer is the burden of a sigh,

The falling of a tear,

The upward glancing of an eye,

When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speechThat infant lips can try;Prayer the sublimest strains that reachThe Majesty on high.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech

That infant lips can try;

Prayer the sublimest strains that reach

The Majesty on high.

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,Returning from his ways;While angels in their songs rejoiceAnd cry, "Behold, he prays!"

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,

Returning from his ways;

While angels in their songs rejoice

And cry, "Behold, he prays!"

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,The Christian's native air,His watchword at the gates of death;He enters heaven with prayer.

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,

The Christian's native air,

His watchword at the gates of death;

He enters heaven with prayer.

O Thou, by whom we come to God,The Life, the Truth, the Way;The path of prayer thyself hast trod:Lord, teach us how to pray!

O Thou, by whom we come to God,

The Life, the Truth, the Way;

The path of prayer thyself hast trod:

Lord, teach us how to pray!

—James Montgomery.

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