HOLLINGSIDE. 7s. D.

673 The Ancient Litany.
SAVIOUR, when, in dust, to thee
Low we bend the adoring knee;
When, repentant, to the skies
Scarce we lift our weeping eyes;
Oh, by all thy pains and woe
Suffered once for man below,
Bending from thy throne on high,
Hear our solemn Litany!

2 By thy helpless infant years,
By thy life of want and tears,
By thy days of sore distress
In the savage wilderness;

By the dread mysterious hour

Of the insulting tempter's power,-
Turn, oh, turn a favoring eye;
Hear our solemn Litany!

SOLITUDE. 75.

3 By thine hour of dire despair;
By thine agony of prayer;
By the cross, the nail, the thorn,
Piercing spear, and torturing scorn;
By the gloom that vailed the skies
O'er the dreadful sacrifice;-
Listen to our humble cry,
Hear our solemn Litany!

4 By thy deep expiring groan;
By the sad sepulchral stone;
By the vault whose dark abode
Held in vain the rising God;-
Oh, from earth to heaven restored,
Mighty reascended Lord!
Listen, listen to the cry

Of our solemn Litany!

Robert Grant,

L. T. DOWNS.

3

Till the

last!

JESUS! lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly
While the billows near me roll,
While the tempest still is high;
Hide me, O my Saviour! hide,

Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide;

Oh, receive my soul at last! 2 Other refuge have I none; Hangs my helpless soul on thee; Leave, ah! leave me not alone,

Still support and comfort me. All my trust on thee is stayed;

All my help from thee I bring; Cover my defenceless head

With the shadow of thy wing. MARTYN. 7s. D.

3 Thou, O Christ! art all I want; More than all in thee I find; Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,

Heal the sick, and lead the blind. Just and holy is thy name,

I am all unrighteousness; Vile and full of sin I am,

Thou art full of truth and grace. 4 Plenteous grace with thee is found,Grace to pardon all my sin; Let the healing streams abound,

Make and keep me pure within; Thou of life the fountain art,

Freely let me take of thee; Spring thou up within my heart, Rise to all eternity.

FINE.

Charles Wesley.

S. B. MARSH.

D. C.

2 What though the tempest rage? Heaven is our home;

Short is our pilgrimage,

Heaven is our home.

And Time's wild wintry blast
Soon shall be overpast,
We shall reach home at last;

Heaven is our home.

3 There at our Saviour's side,
Heaven is our home;
May we be glorified;

Heaven is our home:
There are the good and blest,
Those we love most and best,
Grant us with them to rest;

Heaven is our home.

4 Grant us to murmur not,
Heaven is our home,
Whate'er our earthly lot,
Heaven is our home.
Grant us at last to stand

There at thine own right hand,
Jesus, in Fatherland:

Heaven is our home!

Thomas R. Taylor, alt.

677 Jesus is mine.

Now I have found a Friend;
Jesus is mine;—

His love shall never end;
Jesus is mine;

Though earthly joys decrease,
Though earthly friendships cease,
Now I have lasting peace:

Jesus is mine.

2 Though I grow poor and old, Jesus is mine;

Though I grow faint and cold,
Jesus is mine:

He shall my wants supply;
His precious blood is nigh,
Naught can my hope destroy;
Jesus is mine.

3 When earth shall pass away,— Jesus is mine,—

In the great judgment day,—
Jesus is mine,—

Oh! what a glorious thing,
Then to behold my King,
On tuneful harp to sing,
Jesus is mine.

4 Father! thy name I bless;
Jesus is mine;

Thine was the sovereign grace;

Praise shall be thine;

Spirit of holiness!

Sealing the Father's grace,

Thou mad'st my soul embrace

PROPIOR DEO. 6s, 4s.

A. S. SULLIVAN.

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