3 There is a stream whose gentle flow
  Supplies the city of our God;
Life, love, and joy still gliding through,
  And watering our divine abode:—­

4 That sacred stream, thy holy word,—­
  That all our raging fear controls: 
Sweet peace thy promises afford,
  And give new strength to fainting souls.

     Isaac Watts, 1719.

357 Sessions.  L.M.

The Offices of Faith.

Faith is a living pow’r from heaven
Which grasps the promise God has given;
Securely fixed on Christ alone,
A trust that cannot be o’erthrown.

2 Faith finds in Christ whate’er we need To save and strengthen, guide and feed; Strong in his grace, it joys to share His cross, 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?