2 May struggling hearts that seek release Give deeper calm than night can bring; Here find the rest of God's own peace; Give sweeter songs than lips can sing. And, strengthened here by hymn and prayer, 4 Life's tumult we must meet again: Lay down the burden and the care. We cannot at the shrine remain; 3 O God, our Light, to Thee we bow; But in the spirit's secret cell (Amen. Within all shadows standest Thou; May hymn and prayer for ever dwell. SAMUEL LONGFELLOW 2 Let evil thoughts and spirits flee before us; Till morning cometh, watch, O Master, o'er us; Thine angels send us. Our earliest thoughts be Thine when morning wakes us. Do Thou befriend them. But Thee, () Father, who Thine own hast made us. Us now and ever. God, Three in One, the Ruler of creation, Lord everlasting. Amen. BOHEMIAN BRETHREN. Tr. CATHERINE WINKWORTH 32 CHAUTAUQUA Irregular William F. SHERWIN ET Wait and worship while the night Sets her evening lamps alight Thro’all the sky. ho - ly, ho - ly, Lord God of Hosts: Heav'n and earth are full of Thee, Heav'n and earth are prais - ing Thee, O Lord, most 2 Lord of life, beneath the dome Of the universe, Thy home, For Thou art nigh. Holy, holy, holy, etc. 3 While the deepening shadows fall, Our hearts ascend. Holy, holy, holy, etc. 4 When, for ever from our sight Pass the stars, the day, the night, And shadows end. Holy, holy, holy, etc. Amen. Mary A. LATHBURY 34 ST. MATTHIAS L. M. 61. William H. MONK (d=88) Sweet Saviour,bless usere we go; Thy word in - to our minds in - still; And make our luke-warm hearts to glow With low-ly love and fer - vent will; Thro' life's long day and death's dark night, O gen-tle Je - sus, be our light. A-men. 35 EVENTIDE 1os. WILLIAM H. MONK 6, 14:51 lat) fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, oh, a-| bide with me. A-men. ma 2 Swift to its close ebbs out life's | little day; Earth's joys grow dim, its glories | pass away, O Thou who changest not, a- | bide with me. What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power? Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, a- | bide with me. Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness. I triumph still, if Thou a- | bide with me. Shine through the gloom, and point me , to the skies: Henry F, LYTE |