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The Book of Praise.
Though the gloom be grievous, Those we leant on leave us,
Though the coward heart
Quit its proper part,
Though the Tempter come,
Thou wilt lead us home.
Saviour pure and holy, Lover of the lowly,
Sign us with Thy sign,
Take our hands in Thine,
Take our hands and come,
Lead Thy children home !
Star of morn and even, Shine on us from Heaven,
From Thy glory-throne
Hear Thy very own !
Lord and Saviour, come,
Lead us to our home !
Fi-ancis Turner Palgrave. 1862 |
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ccxxx.
O Thou, to whose all-searching sight The darkness shineth as the light, Search, prove my heart; it pants for Thee ; O, burst these bands, and set it free !
Wash out its stains, refine its dross ; Nail my affections to the cross ; Hallow each thought; let all within Be clean, as Thou, my Lord, art clean. |
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