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Let the healing streams abound,

Make and keep me pure within. Thou of life the fountain art;

Freely let me take of Thee ; Spring Thou up within my heart ; Rise to all eternity.

Charles Wesley.



I WAS a wandering sheep,
1 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 sheep,

The Father sought his child,
They followed me o'er vale and hill,

O’er deserts waste and wild.
They found me nigh to death,

Famished, and faint, and lone ; They bound me with the bands of love,

They saved the wandering one.

They spoke in tender love,

They raised my drooping head;
They gently closed my bleeding wounds,

My fainting soul they fed.
They washed my filth away,

They made me clean and fair ;
They brought me to my home in peace, –

The long-sought wanderer !

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. THOU art the Way ; and he who fighs,

1 Amid this starless waste of woe, To find a pathway to the skies,

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 resting-place in God.

Thou art the Truth, whose steady day

Shines on through earthly blight and bloom; The pure, the everlasting Ray,

The Lamp that shines e’en in the tomb ;
The Light that out of darkness springs,

And guideth those that blindly go ;
The Word whose precious radiance Alings

Its lustre upon all below.

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COME, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove,

With all thy quickening powers, Kindle a flame of sacred love

In these cold hearts of ours.

In vain we tune our formal songs,

In vain we strive to rise ; Hosannas languish on our tongues,

And our devotion dies.

Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove,

With all thy quickening powers; Come, shed abroad a Saviour's love, And that shall kindle ours.

Isaac Watts. 1674 - 1748. COME, MIGHTY SPIRIT.

COME, mighty Spirit, penetrate

This heart and soul of mine ; And my whole being with thy grace

Pervade, O Life divine !

As this clear air surrounds the earth,

Thy grace around me roll;
As the fresh light pervades the air,

So pierce and fill my soul.

As from these clouds drops down in love

The precious summer rain,
So from thyself pour down the food

That freshens all again.

As these fair powers exhale their scent

In gladness at our feet,
So from thyself let fragrance breathe,

More heavenly and more sweet.

Thus life within our lifeless hearts

Shall make its glad abode ;
And we shall shine in beauteous light,
Filled with the light of God.

H. Bonar. 1860.

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