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WHAT REWARD SHALL I GIVE UNTO THE LORD?"

DARK was my lot, and long it spurned
The poor reliefs that man could give;
Till God my wayward spirit turned,

And bade me see, believe, and live.
Then flowed my tears, then woke my tongue,
And loud His grace to sinners sung.

O what return can I bestow,

Bestow, my God, on mighty Thee! What can I give, that will not flow

In tenfold blessings back on me? How rich on earth Thy cup of love! How richer still the fount above!

Be mine to own Thy gentle sway,
To live, to die, to Thee alone;
Whom should I love, and whom obey,

But Him who made me twice His own?

Who formed me by His living breath?
Who rescued me from sin and death?

Q

Him will I praise; heart, hand, and tongue,
To Him shall daily offerings bring ;
I'll dwell His ransomed train among,

The Lamb's high song with them to sing ; Till I shall join a brighter choir,

And lend a theme to every lyre.

ABIDE WITH US:-FOR THE DAY IS FAR SPENT."

ABIDE with me! Fast falls the eventide;

The darkness deepens: Lord, with me abide!
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me!

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day!
Earth's joys grow dim; its glories pass away:
Change and decay in all around I see;

O Thou, who changest not, abide with me!

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word;
But as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, Lord,
Familiar, condescending, patient, free,

Come, not to sojourn, but abide with me.

Come, not in terrors, as the King of kings;
But kind, and good, with healing in Thy wings:
Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea,

Come, Friend of sinners, and thus bide with me!

Thou on my head, in early youth didst smile,
And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile,
Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee.
On to the close, O Lord, abide with me!

I need Thy presence every passing hour:
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power?
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me!

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless :
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death's sting? where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.

Hold then Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies:
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee:
In life and death, O Lord, abide with me!

VIII.

LIVING POETS:

MONTGOMERY: KEBLE: MILMAN:

&c. &c.

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