Make me Thy duteous child, that I
Ceaseless may " Abba, Father," cry!

Ah, no! ne'er will I backward turn-
Thine wholly, Thine alone I am;
Thrice happy he who views with scorn
Earth's toys, for Thee his constant flame.
Oh, help, that I may never move
From the blest footsteps of Thy love!

Each moment draw from earth away
My heart, that lowly waits Thy call;
Speak to my inmost soul, and say,

"I am thy love, thy God, thy all!"
To feel Thy power, to hear Thy voice,
To taste Thy love, be all my choice.
GERHARD TERSTEEGEN. (German.)

Translation of JOHN WESLEY.

For Believers.

THOU hidden source of calm repose,

Thou all-sufficient love divine,
My help and refuge from my foes,
Secure I am if Thou art mine!
And lo! from sin, and grief, and shame,
I hide me, Jesus, in Thy name.

Thy mighty name salvation is,

And keeps my happy soul above;
Comfort it brings, and power, and peace,
And joy, and everlasting love;
To me, with Thy dear name, are given
Pardon, and holiness, and heaven.

Jesus, my all in all Thou art

My rest in toil, my ease in pain; The medicine of my broken heart;

In war my peace; in loss my gain; My smile beneath the tyrant's frown; In shame my glory and my crown:

In want my plentiful supply;

In weakness my almighty power; In bonds my perfect liberty;

My light in Satan's darkest hour; In grif my joy unspeakable; My life in death, my heaven in hell. CHARLES WESLEY.

825

Litany to the Holy Spirit.

In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When I lie within my bed,
Sick at heart, and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drowned in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the artless doctor sees
No one hope, but of his fees,
And his skill runs on the lees,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When his potion and his pill,
His or none or little skill,
Meet for nothing, but to kill -

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the passing-bell doth toll,
And the Furies, in a shoal,
Come to fright a parting soul,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the priest his last hath prayed,
And I nod to what is said
Because my speech is now decayed,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When, God knows, I'm tost about
Either with despair or doubt,
Yet before the glass be out,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tempter me pursu'th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!