189 Evan. C. M.

£3

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2

WILLIAM H. HAVERGAL

2 I came to Jesus as I was,
Weary, and worn, and sad;
I found in Him a resting-place,
And He hath made me glad.

3 I heard the voice of Jesus say,-
"Behold, I freely give
The living water; thirsty one,
Stoop down, and drink, and live!"

4 I came to Jesus, and I drank

Of that life-giving stream;

My thirst was quenched, my soul revived,
And now I live in Him."

5 I heard the voice of Jesus say,

"I am this dark world's light;
Look unto me, thy morn shall rise,
And all thy day be bright!"

6 I looked to Jesus, and I found
In Him my Star, my Sun;
And in that light of life I'll walk,
Till traveling days are done.

190

Horatius Bonar.

1 We may not climb the heavenly steeps
To bring the Lord Christ down;
In vain we search the lowest deeps,
For Him no depths can drown.

2 But warm, sweet, tender, even yet
A present help is He;

And faith has yet its Olivet,
And love its Galilee.

1 A pilgrim through this lonely world,
The blessed Saviour passed;

A mourner all His life was He,
A dying Lamb at last.

2 That tender heart that felt for all,
For all its life-blood gave;

It found on earth a resting-place,
Save only in the grave.

3 Such was our Lord; and shall we fear The cross, with all its scorn?

Or love a faithless evil world,

That wreathed His brow with thorn?

4 No! facing all its frowns or smiles, Like Him, obedient still,

We homeward press thro' storm or calm, To Zion's blessed hill.

Horatius Bonar.

198

S. S. WESLEY.

2 What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered
Was all for sinners' gain:
Mine, mine was the transgression,
But Thine the deadly pain:
Lo, here I fall, my Saviour!

'Tis I deserved Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor,

Vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

3 What language shall I borrow

To thank Thee, dearest Friend,
For this, Thy dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end?
Lord, make me Thine forever,
Nor let me faithless prove:
O let me never, never,
Abuse such dying love.

4 Be near when I am dying,

O show Thy cross to me!
And for my succor flying,
Come, Lord, and set me free!
These eyes, new faith receiving,
From Jesus shall not move;
For he who dies believing,
Dies safely-through Thy love.

James W. Alexander, tr.

199

1 I need Thee, precious Jesus!
For I am full of sin;
My soul is dark and guilty,
My heart is dead within.
I need the cleansing fountain,
Where I can always flee,
The blood of Christ most precious,
The sinner's perfect plea.

2 I need Thee, blessed Jesus!
For I am very poor;
A stranger and a pilgrim,
I have no earthly store;
I need the love of Jesus

To cheer me on my way,
To guide my doubting footsteps,
To be my strength and stay.

3 I need Thee, blessed Jesus!
And hope to see Thee soon,
Encircled with the rainbow,
And seated on Thy throne:
There, with Thy blood-bought children,
My joy shall ever be

To sing Thy praise, Lord Jesus,
To gaze, my Lord, on Thee!

Frederick Whitfield.