658 Secret communion with God. C. M. WEET is the prayer whose holy stream In earnest pleading flows; Devotion dwells upon the theme, And warm and warmer glows. 2 Faith grasps the blessing she desires; 3 But sweeter far the still small voice, When God has made the heart rejoice, 4 No accents flow, no words ascend; But God himself doth comprehend, 659 9th P. M. 87 b. In deep affliction. FULL of trembling expectation, I thy timely aid implore. 2 Suff'ring Son of man, be near me, 660 In time of peril. C. M. MY Saviour from the wrath to come, From present evil save; Avert the deep impending gloom,- 2 Still hold my soul in life, I pray; And let me all my lengthen'd day 3 Now, Lord, I have to thee made known 4 Secure, in danger's darkest hour, Protected by almighty power, 661 L. M. In sickness: Praying for recovery. ANGEL of covenanted grace Come, and thy healing power infuse; Descend in thine own time, and bless, And give the means their hallow'd 'use. 2 Obedient to thy will alone, To thee in means I calmly fly: 3 Thy holy will be ever mine: I bow, and bless the grace divine,- 4 I come, if thou my strength restore, To spend and to be spent for God. 662 Consolations in sickness. C. M. THEN languor and disease invade 2 Sweet to look inward, and attend 3 Sweet to look back, and see my name 4 Sweet to reflect how grace divine Sweet to remember that his blood 6 If such the sweetness of the stream, Where saints and angels draw their bliss 663 Recovery from sickness. C. M. Y God, thy service well demands MY Why was this fleeting breath renew'd, 2 Thine arms of everlasting love Did this weak frame sustain, When life was hov'ring o'er the grave, 8 I calmly bow'd my fainting head And waited for my Father's call 4 Into thy hands, my Saviour God, In firm dependence on that truth 5 Back from the borders of the grave, 6 Where thou appointest mine abode, For in thy presence death is life, 664 6th P. M. 6 lines 78. 0 The gates of death. THOU God who hearest prayer, 2 Hear and save me, gracious Lord, 4 Leave me not, my strength, my trust; O remember I am dust: 665 C. M. A Sabbath in the sick-chamber. THOUSANDS, O Lord of Hosts, this day And tens of thousands throng to pay 2 They sing thy deeds, as I have sung, Were I among them, my glad tongue 3 For thou art in their midst to teach, 4 I, of such fellowship bereft," O, hast thou not a blessing left,- 5 Behold thy pris'ner;-loose my bands, If not,-contented in thy hands,- 6 I may not to thy courts repair, 7 To faith reveal the things unseen; Let love, without a veil between, |