in hope his crown to wear.

3 Faith to the conscience whispers peace,
And bids the mourner's sighing cease;
By faith the children's right we claim,
And call upon our Father's name.

4 Such faith in us, O God, implant,
And to our prayers thy favor grant;
In Jesus Christ, thy saving Son,
Who is our fount of health alone.

Anon., 1531.

358 Elliott. 8s & 4s.

_Submission to Divine Will._

My God, my Father, while I stray
Far from my home, in life's rough way,
Oh, teach me from my heart to say,
"Thy will be done!"

2 If thou should'st call me to resign
What most I prize--it ne'er was mine--
I only yield thee what was thine--
"Thy will be done!"

3 If 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!"

4 Renew my will from day to day;
Blend it with thine, and take away
All that now makes it hard to say,
"Thy will be done!"

5 Then, when on earth I breathe no more
The pray'r, oft mixed with tears before,
I'll sing upon a happier shore,
"Thy will be done!"

Charlotte Elliott, 1834.

359 Lisbon. S.M.

_The Cross and Crown._ (858)

Oh! what, if we are Christ's,
Is earthly shame or loss?
Bright shall the crown of glory be
When we have borne the cross.

2 Keen was the trial once,
Bitter the cup of woe,
When martyred saints, baptized in blood,
Christ's sufferings shared below.

3 Bright is their glory now,
Boundless their joy above,
Where, on the bosom of their God,
They rest in perfect love.

4 Lord! may that grace be ours,
Like them, in faith, to bear
All that of sorrow, grief, or pain
May be our portion here.

Henry W. Baker, 1852.

360 Lisbon. S.M.

_God Our Shepherd.--Ps. 23._ (859)

The Lord my Shepherd is;
I shall be well supplied:
Since he is mine, and I am his,
What can I want beside?

2 He leads me to the place
Where heavenly pasture grows,
Where living waters gently pass,
And full salvation flows.

3 If e'er I go astray,
He doth my soul reclaim,
And guides me, in his own right way,
For his most holy name.

4 While he affords his aid,
I cannot yield to fear;
Tho' I should walk thro' death's dark shade,
My Shepherd's with me there.

Isaac Watts, 1719.

361 Lisbon. S.M.

_Psalm 37:3-7._ (745)

Here I can firmly rest;
I dare to boast of this,
That God, the highest and the best,