Cho.—­Is my name written there? 
      On the page white and fair? 
      In the book of thy kingdom,
      Is my name written there?

2 Lord, my sins, they are many,
  Like the sands of the sea,
But thy blood, oh, my Savior,
  Is sufficient for me;
For thy promise is written,
  In bright letters that glow,
“Tho’ your sins be as scarlet,
  I will make them like snow.”

3 Oh, that beautiful city,
  With its mansions of light,
With its glorified beings,
  In pure garments of white;
Where no evil thing cometh
  To despoil what is fair;
Where the angels are watching,
  Yes, my name’s written there.

     Mrs. Mary A. Kidder.

248 Convert.  P.M.

Joy in Christ.

  Oh, how happy are they
  Who their Savior obey,
And have laid up their treasures above;
  Tongue cannot express
  The sweet comfort and peace
Of a soul in its earliest love.

2 That sweet comfort was mine,
  When the favor divine
I first found in the blood of the Lamb;
  When my heart it believed,
  What a joy I received,
What a heaven in Jesus’ name.

3 ’Twas a heaven below
  My Redeemer to know,
And the angels could do nothing more
  Than to fall at his feet,
  And the story repeat,
And the Lover of sinners adore.

4 Jesus, all the day long,
  Was my joy and my song;
O that all his salvation might see! 
  He hath loved me, I cried,
  He hath suffered and died
To redeem such a rebel as me.

5 On the wings of his love
  I was carried above
All sin and temptation and pain,
  And I could not believe
  That I ever should grieve—­
That I ever should suffer again.

6 I then rode on the sky,
  Freely justified I,
Nor did envy Elijah his seat;
  My soul mounted higher,
  In a chariot of tire,
And the moon it was under my feet.

7 O the rapturous height
  Of that holy delight
Which I felt in the life-giving blood,
  Of my Savior possessed,
  I was perfectly blest,
As if filled with the fullness of God.

8 Never more will I stray
  From my Savior away,
But I’ll follow the Lamb till I die;
  I will take up my cross,
  And count all things but loss,
Till I meet with my Lord in the sky.

     Charles Wesley.

249 Hallowed Spot.  P.M.

The Place of Conversion. (249)

There is a spot to me more dear
  Than native vale or mountain;
A spot to which affection’s tear
  Springs grateful from its fountain;
’Tis not where kindred souls abound—­
  Tho’ that is almost heaven—­
But where I first my Savior found,
  And felt my sins forgiven.

2 Hard was my toil to reach the shore,
  Long tossed upon the ocean,
Above me was the thunder’s roar,
  Beneath, the wave’s commotion. 
Darkly the pall of night was thrown
  Around me, faint with terror;
In that dark hour how did my groans
  Ascend for years of error.