Let the healing ftreams abound, Charles Wesley. 1740. LOST BUT FOUND. I WAS a wandering sheep, I did not love the fold; I did not love my Shepherd's voice, I would not be controlled. I was a wayward child, I did not love my home, I did not love my Father's voice, I loved afar to roam. The Shepherd sought his fheep, They bound me with the bands of love, They spoke in tender love, They raised my drooping head; They gently closed my bleeding wounds, They washed my filth away, They made me clean and fair; They brought me to my home in peace, Jesus my Shepherd is, 'T was He that loved my soul, 'T was He that washed me in his blood, 'T was He that made me whole. 'T was He that sought the lost, That found the wandering sheep, 'T was He that brought me to the fold, 'Tis He that still doth keep. I was a wandering sheep, I would not be controlled : But now I love my Shepherd's voice, I love, I love the fold! I was a wayward child, I once preferred to roam : But now I love my Father's voice, I love, I love his home! H. Bonar. 1860. TH To find a pathway to the fkies, A light from heaven's eternal glow, By Thee must come, thou Gate of love, Through which the saints undoubting trod, Till faith discovers, like the dove, An ark, a refting-place in God. Thou art the Truth, whose fteady day Shines on through earthly blight and bloom; The pure, the everlasting Ray, The Lamp that fhines e'en in the tomb; Thou art the Life, the bleffed Well Which those that drink fhall ever dwell Our Lamp by night, our Light by day; Thou art the sacred Bread from heaven; Thou art the Life, the Truth, the Way. THE HOLY SPIRIT. OME, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, COME With all thy quickening powers, Kindle a flame of sacred love In these cold hearts of ours. In vain we tune our formal songs, Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, Isaac Watts. 1674-1748. COME, MIGHTY SPIRIT. OME, mighty Spirit, penetrate Co This heart and soul of mine And my whole being with thy grace Pervade, O Life divine! As this clear air surrounds the earth, As from these clouds drops down in love So from thyself pour down the flood As these fair flowers exhale their scent So from thyself let fragrance breathe, Thus life within our lifeless hearts And we shall shine in beauteous light, Filled with the light of God. H. Bonar. 1860. |