“ According to his prayer.
No suffering while it lasts is joy,
How blest soe'er it be,
Yet may the chastened child be glad
His Father's face to see;
And oh, it is not hard to bear
What must be borne in thee.
It is not hard to bear by faith,
In thine own bosom laid,
The trial of a soul redeemed,
For thy rejoicing made.
Well may the heart in patience rest
That none can make afraid.
Safe in thy sanctifying grace—
Almighty to restore—
Borne onward, sin and death behind,
And love and life before,
O let my soul abound in hope,
And praise thee more and more. ”

“ The truth, and then die.
Hide not thy heart!
Forth with thy thought!
Soon 'twill be naught,
And thou in thy tomb.
Now is air, now is room.
Down with false shame;
Reck not of fame;
Dread not man's spite;
Quench not thy light.
This be thy creed,
This be thy deed:
"Hide not thy heart!"{26}
If God is, he made
Sunshine and shade,
Heaven and hell;
This we know well.
Dost thou believe?
Do not deceive;
Scorn not thy faith—
If 'tis a wraith
Soon it will fly.
Thou who must die,
Hide not thy heart!
This is my creed,
This be my deed:
Faith, or a doubt,
I shall speak out—
And hide not my heart. ”

“ This truth survives alone:
That joy and grief and hope and fear,
Alternate triumphed in his breast;
His bliss and woe—a smile, a tear!
Oblivion hides the rest.
He suffered—but his pangs are o'er;
Enjoyed—but his delights are fled;
Had friends—his friends are now no more;
And foes—his foes are dead.
He saw whatever thou hast seen;
Encountered all that troubles thee;
He was—whatever thou hast been;
He is—what thou shalt be.
The rolling seasons, day and night,
Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and man,
Erewhile his portion, life, and light,
To him exist in vain. ”

“ My inmost soul, there lies
A spirit-sky that opens with
Those voices of surprise?
And can it be, by night and day,
That firmament serene
Is just the heaven where God himself,
The Father, dwells unseen?
O God within, so close to me
That every thought is plain,
Be judge, be friend, be Father still,
And in thy heaven reign!
Thy heaven is mine, my very soul!
Thy words are sweet and strong;
They fill my inward silences
With music and with song.
They send me challenges to right,
And loud rebuke my ill;
They ring my bells of victory,
They breathe my "Peace, be still!" ”

“ To Thee, the Way, the Truth, the Life,
Whose love my simple heart inflames,
Divinely taught, at last I fly,
With Thee, and Thine, to live and die.
Redeemed by Thine almighty grace,
I taste my glorious liberty,
With open arms the world embrace,
But cleave to those who cleave to Thee;
But only in thy saints delight,
Who walk with God in purest white.
My brethren, friends, and kinsmen these,
Who do my heavenly Father's will;
Who aim at perfect holiness,
And all Thy counsels to fulfill,
Athirst to be whate'er Thou art
And love their God with all their heart.
—Charles Wesley. ”

“ Because the God I love is here.
They know, who thus oppress me,
'Tis hard to be alone;
But know not One can bless me
Who comes through bars and stone.
He makes my dungeon's darkness bright
And fills my bosom with delight.
Thy love, O God! restores me
From sighs and tears to praise;
And deep my soul adores thee
Nor thinks of time or place:
I ask no more, in good or ill,
But union with thy holy will.
'Tis that which makes my treasure,
'Tis that which brings my gain;
Converting woe to pleasure.
And reaping joy from pain.
Oh, 'tis enough, whate'er befall,
To know that God is All in All. ”

“ Whate'er the subject be that starts;
But if I get among the glum
I hold my tongue, to tell the truth,
And keep my breath to cool my broth.
For chance or change of peace or pain;
For fortune's favor or her frown;
For luck or glut, for loss or gain,
I never dodge, nor up nor down:
But swing what way the ship shall swim,
Or tack about with equal trim.
I suit not where I shall not speed,
Nor trace the turn of every tide;
If simple sense will not succeed,
I make no bustling, but abide;
For shining wealth, or scoring woe,
I force no friend, I fear no foe.
I love my neighbor as myself ”

“ Now the frail vessel Thou hast made
No hand but thine shall fill—
The waters of the earth have failed,
And I am thirsty still.
I thirst for springs of heavenly life,
And here all day they rise;
I seek the treasure of Thy love,
And close at hand it lies.
And a "new song" is in my mouth,
To long-loved music set—
Glory to Thee for all the grace
I have not tasted yet.
I have a heritage of joy
That yet I must not see;
The hand that bled to make it mine
Is keeping it for me.
There is a certainty of love
That sets my heart at rest;
A calm assurance for to-day
That to be poor is best! ”

“ An evening hymn I raise.
I take the attitude of prayer,
But not for gifts to plead;
Thy bounty, far beyond desert,
Has more than met my need;
So, well content, I worship Thee
In thought and word and deed.
Thou bidst me ask, if I'd receive,
And seek, if I would find;
But surely Thou wilt not condemn
A heart to trust inclined.
Give what is best; Thou knowest all.
How blest the quiet mind!
I praise thee that in all the hours
And moments, as they glide,
Thy providence enfoldeth close;
Thy blessings rich abide;
And Thou dost keep in perfect peace
Those who in thee confide. ”

“ For a hymn is a wing by which the spirit soars above earthly cares and trials into a purer air and a clearer sunshine. Nothing can better scatter the devils of melancholy and gloom or doubt and fear. When praise and prayer, trust and love, faith and hope, and similar sentiments, have passed into and through some poet's passionate soul, until he has become so charged with them that he has been able to fix them in a form of expression where beauty is united to strength, where concentration and ornamentation are alike secured, then the deepest needs of great numbers are fully met. ”

“ For thou wilt be peace and all power.
Now, Lord, without tarrying, now!
While eyes can look up and while reason remains,
And my hand yet has strength to surrender the reins,
Ere death stamp my brow
And pour coldness and stillness through all the mad course of my veins—
Come, Lord, without tarrying, now!
I yield Thee my place, which is thine.
Appoint me to lie on the chariot floor;
Yea, appoint me to lie at thy feet, and no more,
While the glad axles shine,
And the happy wheels run on their course to the heavenly door,—
Now thou hast my place, which is thine. ”

“ Should not the servant tread it still?
Go, labor on; 'tis not for naught;
Thine earthly loss is heavenly gain;
Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee not;
The Master praises—what are men?
Go, labor on; your hands are weak;
Your knees are faint, your soul cast down;
Yet falter not; the prize you seek
Is near—a kingdom and a crown!
Toil on, faint not; keep watch, and pray!
Be wise the erring soul to win;
Go forth into the world's highway;
Compel the wanderer to come in.
Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice:
For toil comes rest, for exile home ”

“ But soon I found that sorrow, worn
As duty's garment, strength supplies,
And out of darkness meekly borne
Unto the righteous light doth rise.
And soon I found that fears which stirred
My startled soul God's will to do,
On me more real peace conferred
Than in life's calm I ever knew.
Then, Lord, in thy mysterious ways
Lead my dependent spirit on,
And whensoe'er it kneels and prays,
Teach it to say, "Thy will be done!"
Let its one thought, one hope, one prayer,
Thine image seek, thy glory see;
Let every other wish and care
Be left confidingly to thee. ”

“ Yet here 'tis joy my Master's cup to share;
And so I pray, O Christ, with me abide.
'Tis gain if death; for in that far-off land—
No longer far—no veil of flesh will dim
For me the wondrous beauty of my King,
As he abides with me and I with him.
Abide with me; I have toiled gladly on,
A little while, in stir of care and strife;
The task is laid aside at thy command,
Make thou it perfect with thy perfect life. ———
THE BLESSED FACE
Jesus, these eyes have never seen
That radiant form of thine;
The veil of sense hangs dark between
Thy blessed face and mine. ”

“ GO TELL JESUS
Bury thy sorrow,
The world has its share;
Bury it deeply,
Hide it with care.
Think of it calmly
When curtained by night;
Tell it to Jesus,
And all will be right.
Tell it to Jesus,
He knoweth thy grief;
Tell it to Jesus,
He'll send thee relief.
Gather the sunlight
Aglow on thy way;
Gather the moonbeams,
Each soft silver ray.
Hearts grown aweary
With heavier woe,
Droop 'mid the darkness—
Go comfort them, go!
Bury thy sorrow,
Let others be blest;
Give them the sunshine,
Tell Jesus the rest. ———
WE WILL PRAISE THEE
Great Jehovah! ”

“ Has risen from the dust;
Thy blood is all my treasure;
Thy word is all my trust.
Through me, thou gentle Master,
Thy purposes fulfill:
I yield myself forever
To thy most holy will.
What though I be but weakness
My strength is not in me;
The poorest of thy people
Has all things, having Thee.
When clouds are darkest round me,
Thou, Lord, art then most near,
My drooping faith to quicken,
My weary soul to cheer.
Safe nestling in thy bosom,
I gaze upon thy face.
In vain my foes would drive me
From Thee, my hiding-place.
'Tis Thou hast made me happy;
'Tis thou hast set me free. ”

“ A PRAYER
O that mine eyes might closèd be
To what concerns me not to see;
That deafness might possess mine ear
To what concerns me not to hear;
That truth my tongue might always tie
From ever speaking foolishly;
That no vain thought might ever rest
Or be conceived within my breast;
That by each deed and word and thought
Glory may to my God be brought.
But what are wishes! Lord, mine eye
On Thee is fixed; to Thee I cry!
Wash, Lord, and purify my heart,
And make it clean in every part;
And when 'tis clean, Lord, keep it, too,
For that is more than I can do. ”

“ And she rose and ministered in her household;
She rose and ministered unto him.
"He touched her hand, and the fever left her."
O blessed touch of the Man divine!
So beautiful to arise and serve him
When the fever is gone from your life and mine.
It may be the fever of restless serving
With heart all thirsty for love and praise,
And eyes all aching and strained with yearning
Toward self-set goals in the future days.
Or it may be fever of spirit anguish,
Some tempest of sorrow that does not down,
Till the cross at last is in meekness lifted
And the head stoops low for the thorny crown. ”

“ This darkness, too, shall flee.
Weep not yon grave beside!
Dear friend, he is not gone;
God's angel soon this stone
Shall roll aside.
Yea, death shall not abide!
Earth's anguish, too, shall go,
O then be strong, my soul!
When sorrows o'er thee roll
Be still, and know
'Tis God's will worketh so.
Dear Lord and God, incline
Thine ear unto my call!
O grant me that in all,
This will of mine
May still be one with thine!
Teach me to answer still,
Whate'er my lot may be,
To all thou sendest me,
Of good or ill;
"All goeth as God will." ”

“ If only one soul to the cross is led,
Thy labor is not in vain."
And at last he woke, and his knee he bent
In grateful, childlike prayer,
And he prayed till an answer of peace was sent,
And Faith and Hope as a rainbow bent
O'er the clouds of his earthly care.
And he rose in joy, and his eye was bright.
His sorrow and grief had fled,
And his soul was calm and his heart was light,
For his hands were strong in his Saviour's might
As forth to his work he sped. ———
Whatever dies, or is forgot—
Work done for God, it dieth not. ”

“ The image of the morning-star doth rest,
So in this stillness thou beholdest only
Thine image in the waters of my breast.
Still, still with thee! as to each new born morning
A fresh and solemn splendor still is given,
So does this blessèd consciousness awaking
Breathe each day nearness unto thee and heaven.
When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber,
Its closing eyes look up to thee in prayer;
Sweet the repose beneath thy wings o'ershading,
But sweeter still, to wake and find thee there.
So shall it be at last, in that bright morning,
When the soul waketh, and life's shadows flee ”