HIDE ME, O MY SAVIOUR! HIDE.

IN Thyself my spirit hide,

From myself deliver me; From self-righteousness and pride,

Wholly consecrate to Thee.

Dead to sin, alive to God,

Through the Power of Love supreme, By the grace of Christ my Lord, By the Law of Life in Him.

From the Law of Death set free,
Thus forever to abide,
Knowing that He died for me,
Proud of nothing else beside.

Oh to be thus baptized with Love,
Oh to be absorbed in God,
Through Fternity to prove
All the fulness of His Word.

Through Eternity to show

His dear Love to all I meet;
Making heaven and earth to know

How he brought me to His feet!

Songs of Moses and the Lamb,
Endless praises to repeat,

How the knowledge of His name
Brought me to the Mercy-seat.

Taught atoning blood to plead,
And its cleansing power to find,
Through the righteousness of God,
Dropped upon the guilty mind,

Wrought by the Eternal Word,
In the robe of glory drest,
Spotless at the throne of God,

In His likeness there confest.

Hide me, O my Saviour, hide;
From myself deliver me,
In thy mercy to abide,

Loved through all Eternity.

Dwelling in the Secret Place

Of the Lord of glory, where, Heaven's Redemption shall be known From the Prison of Despair!

OH THAT I WERE AN ANGEL FAIR!

H that I were an angel fair

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As all this lovely scene,

My heart as gay, to weep or pray,
And nothing ill between!

Oh would I were as those bright clouds,

All garmented to raise,

From sunrise to its setting light,
Their unseen Maker's praise!

Might but my natural thoughts express,
As modest daisies hide,
The joy of Nature's loveliness,
Without one thought of pride!
In words illumined as the air,

Arraying earth with Heaven,
Unwearied flames of faith and prayer,

And colors wreathed in banners where

No thought need be forgiven;

As when the stars together sang,

And mightiest melodies outrang
Their wondrous birth in heaven.

The chariots of a new-made world.

On wings and wheels of rainbows whirled,

By angel heralds driven,

With sparkling dewdrops that declare, And hues of rosy dawn,

And Messianic prophets fair,

The day-break of the Morn!

O Life, how blest! And every guest, Though once from Eden driven, Returning to that sacred rest Spotless in Christ's own heaven!

BROOK MELODIES, GOD'S MERCIES!

THE music of this running brook
Is God's dear melody to me,

For, 'midst the howl of Winter winds,
It says, Another Spring you'll see ;
Though now by icy fetters chained,
It sings of Paradise regained,
And Summer's loving minstrelsy,

With brief, prelusive pause restrained!

Sure as bright clouds sweet drops contain,
Sure as the rainbows bind the flood,
God never made the brooks in vain.
The brooks are promises of God;
And ever, in their babbling ways,

To the dear heart of childhood plain,
May teach the sweetest hymns of praise,
Where sunset dews are Love's refrain.

Would God that every time I see

A star in Evening's cloudless sky;
Would God that every time I hear
The fragrant breezes whispering by,—

Mine unbelieving soul might learn
His loving presence to discern!