381 Lux Benigna. 10s. & 4s.

Lead Thou Me On.

Lead, kindly Light, amid th’ 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.

2 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.

3 So long thy pow’r has blessed 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 awhile.

     Cardinal J.H.  Newman

382 Joy Cometh in the Morning.  P.M.

Joy After Weeping.

Oh, weary pilgrim, lift your head,
  For joy cometh in the morning;
For God, in his own Word, hath said
  That joy cometh in the morning.

Cho.—­Joy cometh in the morning,
      Joy cometh in the morning;
      Weeping may endure for a night,
      But joy cometh in the morning.

2 Ye trembling saints, dismiss your fears,
  For joy cometh in the morning;
Oh, weeping mourner, dry your tears,
  For joy cometh in the morning.

3 Let ev’ry burdened soul look up,
  For joy cometh in the morning;
And ev’ry trembling sinner hope,
  For joy cometh in the morning.

4 Our God shall wipe all tears away,
  For joy cometh in the morning;
Sorrow and sighing flee away,
  For joy cometh in the morning.

     M.M.  Weinland.

383 Landis.  S.M.

God’s Tenderness in Our Grief. (883)

How tender is thy hand,
  Oh, thou beloved Lord! 
Afflictions come at thy command,
  And leave us at thy word.

2 How gentle was the rod
  That chastened us for sin! 
How soon we found a smiling God,
  Where deep distress had been!

3 A Father’s hand we felt,
  A Father’s heart we knew;
With tears of penitence we knelt,
  And found his word was true.

4 We told him all our grief,
  We thought of Jesus’ love;
A sense of pardon brought relief,
  And bade our pains remove.

     Thomas Hastings.

384 Retreat.  L.M.

The Mercy-Seat. (787)

From every stormy wind that blows,
From every swelling tide of woes,
There is a calm, a sure retreat;—­
’Tis found before the mercy-seat.

2 There is a place where Jesus sheds The oil of gladness on our heads,—­ A place, than all besides, more sweet; It is the blood-bought mercy-seat.

3 There is a spot where spirits blend, Where friend holds fellowship with friend; Though sundered far, by faith they meet Around one common mercy-seat.