And when I stand before Thy throne,
And all Thy glory see,

Still be my righteousness alone

To hide myself in Thee.

Edward Henry Bickersteth. 1858.

CCXXIII.

When at Thy footstool, Lord, I bend,
And plead with Thee for mercy there,
Think of the sinner's dying friend,

And for His sake receive my prayer.

O think not of my shame and guilt,

My thousand stains of deepest dye;
Think of the blood which Jesus spilt,
And let that blood my pardon buy.

Think, Lord, how I am still Thy own,
The trembling creature of Thy hand ;
Think how my heart to sin is prone,
And what temptations round me stand.

O think upon Thy holy word,

And every plighted promise there ;
How prayer should evermore be heard,
And how Thy glory is to spare.

O think not of my doubts and fears,
My strivings with Thy grace Divine:
Think upon Jesus' woes and tears,

And let His merits stand for mine.

Thine eye, Thine ear, they are not dull;
Thine arm can never shorten'd be ;

Behold me here; my heart is full;
Behold, and spare, and succour me!
Henry Francis Lyte. 1833

CCXXIV.

As o'er the past my memory strays,
Why heaves the secret sigh?
'Tis that I mourn departed days,
Still unprepared to die.

The world, and worldly things beloved,
My anxious thoughts employed,
And time unhallow'd, unimproved,
Presents a fearful void.

Yet, holy Father, wild despair

Chase from my labouring breast!

Thy grace it is, which prompts the prayer; That grace can do the rest.

My life's brief remnant all be Thine !

And, when Thy sure decree

Bids me this fleeting breath resign,

O, speed my soul to Thee!

Bishop Thomas Fanshaw Middleton. [1831.]

CCXXV.

Forth from the dark and stormy sky,
Lord to Thine altar's shade we fly:
Forth from the world, its hope and fear,
Saviour! we seek Thy shelter here:
Weary and weak, Thy grace we pray :
Turn not, O Lord, Thy guests away!

Long have we roam'd in want and pain;
Long have we sought Thy rest in vain;
Wilder'd in doubt, in darkness lost,
Long have our souls been tempest-tost:
Low at Thy feet our sins we lay;
Turn not, O Lord, Thy guests away!

Bishop Reginald Heber. 1827.

CCXXVI.

O Lord, turn not Thy face away
From them that lowly lie,
Lamenting sore their sinful life
With tears and bitter cry;
Thy mercy-gates are open wide
To them that mourn their sin;
O shut them not against us, Lord,
But let us enter in.

We need not to confess our fault,
For surely Thou canst tell;
What we have done, and what we are,
Thou knowest very well;
Wherefore, to beg and to entreat,
With tears we come to Thee,
As children that have done amiss
Fall at their father's knee.

And need we then, O Lord, repeat
The blessing which we crave,
When Thou dost know, before we speak,

The thing that we would have?

Mercy, O Lord, mercy we ask,

This is the total sum;

For mercy, Lord, is all our prayer ;

O let Thy mercy come !

Variation by Bishop Reginald Heber. 1827.

From John Mardley. 1562.

VI.

"AND LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION; BUT DELIVER US FROM EVIL."

CCXXVII.

Lead us, heavenly Father, lead us
O'er the world's tempestuous sea ;
Guard us, guide us, keep us, feed us,
For we have no help but Thee;
Yet possessing

Every blessing,

If our God our Father be.

Saviour, breathe forgiveness o'er us ;

All our weakness Thou dost know;
Thou didst tread this earth before us,
Thou didst feel its keenest woe;
Lone and dreary,

Faint and weary,
Through the desert Thou didst go.

Spirit of our God, descending,

Fill our hearts with heavenly joy;
Love with every passion blending,
Pleasure that can never cloy :
Thus provided,

Pardon'd, guided,

Nothing can our peace destroy.

James Edmeston. 1820.

CCXXVIII.

Jesu! guide our way

To eternal day!

So shall we, no more delaying,
Follow Thee, Thy voice obeying ;

Lead us by Thy hand

To our Father's land!

When we danger meet,

Stedfast make our feet!

Lord, preserve us uncomplaining

'Mid the darkness round us reigning!

Through adversity

Lies our way to Thee.

Order all our way

Through this mortal day;

In our toil with aid be near us;

In our need with succour cheer us;
When life's course is o'er,

Open Thou the door!

Arthur Tozer Russell. 1851. From Louis, Count Zinzendorf.

CCXXIX.

Star of morn and even,
Sun of Heaven's heaven,
Saviour high and dear,
Toward us turn Thine ear;
Through whate'er may come,
Thou canst lead us home.

R