271 ST. ETHELDREDA C. M.

Thomas Turton

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1. O Love! O Life! our faith and sight Thy pres-ence mak-eth

one.

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As, through trans-figured clouds of white, We trace the noon-day sun.

A-MEN.

His is love beyond a brother's, Cost - ly, free, and knows no end:

They, who once His kind-ness prove, Find it

ev - er-last- ing love.

A-MEN.

2 Which of all our friends to save us,
Could or would have shed his blood?
But our Jesus died to have us

Reconciled in Him to God.
This was boundless love indeed;
Jesus is a friend in need.

3 When He lived on earth abased,
"Friend of sinners" was His name;
Now above all glory raised,

He rejoices in the same;

Still He calls them brethren, friends,
And to all their wants attends.

4 O for grace our hearts to soften!
Teach us, Lord, at length to love;
We, alas! forget too often

What a Friend we have above;
But when home our souls are brought,
We will love Thee as we ought.

John Newton, 1779

I. I've found a Friend, O such a Friend! He loved me ere I knew Him;

He drew me with the cords of love, And thus He bound me to Him;

And 'round my heart still close - ly twine Those ties which naught can sev - er,

For I am His and He is mine, For ev er and for ever.

1. What means this eager, anxious throng, Which moves with busy haste a-long,

These won-drous gath' rings day by day, What means this strange com-mo-tion pray?

In ac-cents hush'd the throng re- ply, "Je - sus of Naz - a-reth passeth by;"

In accents hush'd the throng re-ply, "Je-sus of Naz-a-reth pass-eth by." A-MEN.

2 Without Thee but weakness, with Thee I am strong;
By day Thou shalt lead me, by night be my song;
Though dangers surround me, I still every fear,
Since Thou, the most Mighty, my Helper, art near.

3 Thy love, O how faithful! so tender, so pure!

Thy promise, faith's anchor, how steadfast and sure!
That love, like sweet sunshine, my cold heart can warm;
That promise make steady my soul in the storm.

4 Breathe, breathe on my spirit, oft ruffled, Thy peace;
From restless, vain wishes, bid Thou my heart cease:
In Thee all its longings henceforward shall end,
Till, glad, to Thy presence my soul shall ascend.

Ray Palmer, 1864