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It is Thine own, O Lord,
Who toil while others sleep;
Who sow with loving care
What other hands shall reap:
They lean on Thee entranced,
In calm and perfect rest:
Give us that Peace, O Lord,

Divine and blest,

Thou keepest for those hearts who love Thee best.

EARTH AND HEAVEN.

419. C. M.

1 Lift up thine eyes, afflicted soul!
From earth uplift thine eyes,
Though dark the shades of evening roll,
And daylight beauty dies;

One sun is set, a thousand more
Their rounds of glory run,

Where science leads thee to explore
In every star a sun.

2 Thus, when some long-loved comfort ends, And frailty would despair,

Faith to the heaven of heavens ascends,
And meets ten thousand there.
First faint and small, then clear and bright,
They gladden all the gloom,

As stars, that seem but points of light,
The rank of suns assume.

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2

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4

420. P. M.

Oft when of God we ask
For fuller, happier life,
He sets us some new task
Involving care and strife:

Is this the boon for which we sought?
Has prayer new trouble on us brought?

This is indeed the boon,

Though strange to us it seems;
We pierce the rock, and soon
The blessing on us streams;
For when we are the most athirst,
Then the clear waters on us burst.

We toil as in a field,

Wherein, to us unknown,

A treasure lies concealed,

Which may be all our own:
And shall we of the toil complain
That speedily will bring such gain?

We dig the wells of life,
And God the waters gives;
We win our way by strife,
Then He within us lives;

And only war could make us meet
For
peace so sacred and so sweet.

421. P. M.

1 Sometimes a light surprises
The Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord who rises

With healing on his wings:
When comforts are declining,
He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining,
To cheer it after rain.

2 In holy contemplation

We sweetly then pursue
The theme of God's salvation,
And find it ever new;
Set free from present sorrow,
We cheerfully can say,

E'en let the unknown to-morrow
Bring with it what it may !

3 It can bring with it nothing,
But He will bear us through;
Who gives the lilies clothing
Will clothe his people too;
Beneath the spreading heavens
No creature but is fed;
And He who feeds the ravens

Will give His children bread.

4 Though vine nor fig tree neither
Their wonted fruit shall bear,
Though all the field should wither,
Nor flocks nor herds be there:
Yet God the same abiding,
His praise shall tune my voice;
For, while in Him confiding,
I cannot but rejoice.

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1 The bird, let loose in eastern skies,
When hastening fondly home,

Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
Where idle warblers roam.

2 But high she shoots through air and light, Above all low delay;

Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way.

3 So grant me, God, from every snare
Of sinful passion free,
Aloft, through virtue's purer air,
To hold my course to Thee!

4 No sin to cloud, no lure to stay
My soul, as home she springs;
Thy sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy freedom in her wings!

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