1 WHEN Jesus dwelt in mortal clay,
What were His works from day to day
But miracles of power and grace,
That spread salvation through our race?
2 Teach us, O Lord! to keep in view
Thy pattern, and Thy steps pursue.
Let alms bestowed, let kindness done
Be witnessed by each rolling sun.
1 LORD, lead the way the Savior went,
By lane and cell obscure,
And let our treasures still be spent,
Like His, upon the poor.
2 Like Him, through scenes of deep distress,
Who bore the world's sad weight,
We, in their gloomy loneliness,
Would seek the desolate.
3 For Thou hast placed us side by side
In this wide world of ill;
And that Thy followers may be tried,
The poor are with us still.
4 Small are the offerings we can make;
Yet Thou hast taught us, Lord,
If given for the Savior's sake,
They lose not their reward.
1 JESUS, our Lord, how rich Thy grace!
Thy bounties how complete!
How shall we count the matchless sum?
How pay the mighty debt?
2 High on a throne of radiant light
Dost Thou exalted shine;
What can our poverty bestow,
When all the worlds are Thine?
3 But Thou hast brethren here below,
The partners of Thy grace,
And wilt confess their humble names
Before Thy Father's face.
4 In them Thou mayst be clothed and fed,
And visited and cheered;
And in their accents of distress
Our Savior's voice is heard.
5 Thy face, with reverence and with love,
We in Thy poor would see;
O may we minister to them,
And in them, Lord, to Thee.
1 FATHER of our feeble race,
Wise, beneficent, and kind!
Spread o'er nature's ample face,
Flows Thy goodness unconfined.
2 Lord, what offerings shall we bring,
At Thine altars when we bow?
Grateful loving hearts, the spring
Whence the kind affections flow;
3 Willing hands to lead the blind,
Bind the wounded, feed the poor;
Love, embracing all our kind;
Charity, with liberal store.
4 Teach us, O Thou heavenly King,
Thus to show our grateful mind;
Thus the accepted offering bring,
Love to Thee and all mankind.
WE give Thee but Thine own,
Whate'er the gift may be :
All that we have is Thine alone,
A trust, O Lord, from Thee.
May we Thy bounties thus
As stewards true receive,
And gladly, as Thou blessest us,
To Thee our first fruits give.
O hearts are bruised and dead,
And homes are bare and cold,
And lambs, for whom the Shepherd bled,
Are straying from the fold!
To tend the lone and fatherless,
The captive to release,
The lost to God to bring,
To teach the way of life and peace,-
It is a Christ-like thing.
And we believe Thy word,
Though dim our faith may be;
Whate'er we do for Thine, O Lord,
We do it unto Thee.
William Walsham How. 1860.
1 How shall we show our love to Thee,
Thou loving God most high,
But loving this Thy family,
For which Thou deignedst to die?
2 If Thou for me such Love didst bear,
Shall I not love again?
For all are objects of Thy care;
Thy Love doth all sustain.
3 If we have love for Thee in heaven,
'Tis seen by love on earth:
Love only, love which God hath given,
Doth prove our heavenly birth..
4 For all we know of God above,
And of His saints below,
And all we know of heaven, is Love,
And all we need to know.
5 Love is of life the only sign,
Love is our vital breath;
Love only shows the child divine,
Love only conquers death.
6 Whate'er we do, where'er we go,
Let love our sonship prove:
Our lives the fire celestial show,
Our thoughts and words be love.
7 O deign to send the love of Thee
From highest heaven above;
For then our life Thy praise shall be,
When all our life is love.
8 With praise to Thee our strains began
With love to Thee shall end;
The love of Thee, and love of man,
From heaven O deign to send !
Isaac Williams. 1842. a.
1 AFFLICTION is a stormy deep,
Where wave resounds to wave;
Though o'er my head the billows roll,
I know the Lord can save.
2 The hand that now withholds my joys
Can reinstate my peace;
And He who bade the tempest roar,
Can bid that tempest cease.
3 In the dark watches of the night,
I'll count His mercies o'er;
I'll praise Him for ten thousand past,
And humbly sue for more.
4 When darkness and when sorrows rose
And pressed on every side,
The Lord has still sustained my steps,
And still has been my Guide.
5 Here will I rest, and build my hopes,
Nor murmur at His rod;
He's more than all the world to me,
My Health, my Life, my God!
Nathaniel Cotton. 1791.
1 GoD of my life, to Thee I call!
Afflicted at Thy feet I fall;
When the great water-floods prevail,
Leave not my trembling heart to fail!
2 Friend of the friendless and the faint!
Where should I lodge my deep complaint?
Where but with Thee, whose open door
Invites the helpless and the poor?
3 Did ever mourner plead with Thee,
And Thou refuse that mourner's plea?
Does not the word still fixed remain,
That none shall seek Thy face in vain?
4 That were a grief I could not bear,
Didst Thou not hear and answer prayer;
But a prayer-hearing, answering God,
Supports me under every load.
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