We taste Thee, O Thou living Bread,
And long to feast upon Thee still!
We drink of Thee, the Fountain-head,
And thirst our souls from Thee to fill.
Our restless spirits yearn for Thee,
Where'er our changeful lot is cast;
Glad when Thy gracious smile we see,
Blest when our faith can hold Thee fast.

O JESU, ever with us stay!

Make all our moments calm and bright; Chase the dark night of sin away,

Shed o'er the world Thy holy light. Amen. Latin, tr. Ray Palmer.

XVII.

'Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out."

JUST as I am, without one plea,

But that Thy Blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidd'st me come to Thee,
O LAMB OF GOD, I come!

Just as I am, though toss'd about
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears, within, without,
O LAMB OF GOD, I come!

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need, in Thee to find,
O LAMB OF GOD, I come!

Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve!
Because Thy promise I believe,
O LAMB OF GOD, I come!

Just as I am (Thy love unknown
Has broken every barrier down),
Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O LAMB OF GOD, I come!

Just as I am, of that free love

The breadth, length, depth, and height to prove,

Here for a season, then above,

O LAMB OF GOD, I come!

Amen.

Charlotte Elliott.

R

XVIII.

"I am the Light of the world."

LEAD, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on;

The night is dark, and I am far from home;
Lead Thou me on:

Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou
Shouldst lead me on:

I loved to choose and see my path; but now
Lead Thou me on!

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will: remember not past years!

So long Thy power has blest me; sure it still
Will lead me on,

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till

The night is gone,

And with the morn those angel faces smile,

Which I have loved long since, and lost a while!

Amen.

J. H. Newman.

XIX.

"My soul hangeth upon Thee: Thy right hand hath upholden me.”

LEANING on Thee, my Guide, my Friend,

My Gracious Saviour! I am blest :
Though weary, Thou dost condescend
To be my rest.

Leaning on Thee, this darkened room
Is cheered by a celestial ray;

Thy pitying smile dispels the gloom,

Turns night to day.

Leaning on Thee, my soul retires

From earthly thoughts and earthly things;
On Thee she centres her desires,

To Thee she clings.

Leaning on Thee, with child-like faith,

To Thee the future I confide;

Each step of life's untrodden path

Thy love will guide.

Leaning on Thee, I breathe no moan,

Though faint with languor, parched with heat;
Thy will has now become my own:
That will is sweet.

Leaning on Thee, 'midst torturing pain,
With patience Thou my soul dost fill:
Thou whisperest, 'Why did I sustain ?’
Then I am still.

Leaning on Thee, I do not dread
The havoc slow disease may make;
Thou, who for me Thy Blood hast shed,
Wilt ne'er forsake.

Leaning on Thee, though faint and weak,
Too weak another voice to hear,

Thy heavenly accents comfort speak,

'Be of good cheer!'

Leaning on Thee, no fear alarms;
Calmly I stand on death's dark brink;

I feel the everlasting arms,

I cannot sink!

Charlotte Elliott.

XX.

"When shall I come to appear before the presence of God?"

LORD JESU, by Thy Passion
To Thee I make my prayer;
Thou, who in mercy smitest,
Have mercy, LORD, and spare.

Oh wash me in the fountain
That floweth from Thy Side;
Oh clothe me in the raiment
Thy Blood hath purified.

Oh hold Thou up my goings,
And lead from strength to strength,
That unto Thee in Zion

I may appear at length.

Oh hearken to my knocking,
And open wide the door,

That I may enter freely,

And never leave Thee more.

Oh bring me, loving SAVIOUR,
To that most blessed place,
Where Angels and Archangels
Look ever on Thy Face;

Where gladsome alleluias
Unceasingly resound;

Where martyrs, now triumphant,
Walk robed in white and crown'd.

Oh make my spirit worthy
To join that ransomed throng;
Oh teach my lips to utter
That everlasting song.

Oh give that last best blessing
That even saints can know,—
To follow in Thy footsteps
Wherever Thou dost go.

Not wisdom, might, or glory,
I ask to win above:

I ask for Thee-Thee only-
O Thou Eternal Love.

Amen.

R. F. Littledale, from "The Priest's Prayer-book.'

XXI.

"Verily I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise."

LORD, when Thy kingdom comes, remember me ;’

Thus spake the dying lips to dying Ears;

Oh faith, which in that darkest hour could see
The promised glory of the far-off years!

No kingly sign declares that glory now,
No ray of hope lights up that awful hour;
A thorny crown surrounds the bleeding Brow,
The Hands are stretch'd in weakness, not in power.

Yet hear the Word the dying SAVIOUR saith,
'Thou too shalt rest in Paradise to-day;'
Oh words of love to answer words of faith!
Oh words of hope for those who live to pray!

LORD, when with dying lips my prayer is said,
Grant that in faith Thy kingdom I may see:
And, thinking on Thy Cross, and bleeding Head,
May breathe my parting words, 'Remember me.'

Remember me, but not my shame or sin;
Thy cleansing Blood hath wash'd them all away;
Thy precious Death for me did pardon win;
Thy Blood redeemed me in that awful day.

Remember me; yet how canst Thou forget
What pain and anguish I have caused to Thee,-
The Cross, the Agony, the Bloody Sweat,
And all the sorrow Thou didst bear for me?

Remember me; and, ere I pass away,
Speak Thou the assuring word that sets us free,
And make Thy promise to my heart, 'To-day
Thou too shall rest in Paradise with Me.'

XXII.

Amen. Archbishop Maclagan.

"Not My will, but Thine be done."

MY GOD and FATHER, while I stray
Far from my home, on life's rough way,
Oh teach me from my heart to say,
'Thy will be done.'

Though dark my path, and sad my lot,
Let me be still, and murmur not,
Or breathe the prayer divinely taught,
"Thy will be done.'

What though in lonely grief I sigh
For friends belov'd, no longer nigh,
Submissive still would I reply,
"Thy will be done.'

Though Thou hast call'd me to resign
What most I prize, it ne'er was mine;
I have but yielded what was Thine :
'Thy will be done.'

Should grief or sickness waste away
My life in premature decay,
MY FATHER, still I strive to say,
'Thy will be done.'

Let but my fainting heart be blest
With Thy sweet Spirit for its guest,
My GOD, to Thee I leave the rest:
'Thy will be done.'