3. Naught—not e’en the life I’m living— Is my own, God alone All to me is giving. Must I, then, His own restore Him? Though bereft Of each gift, Still shall I adore Him. 4. Though a heavy cross I’m bearing And my heart Feels the smart, Shall I be despairing? God can help me, who doth send it; He doth know All my woe And how best to end it. 5. God oft gives me days of gladness; Shall I grieve If He give Seasons, too, of sadness? God is good and tempers ever Every hurt; Me desert Wholly can He never. 6. Though united world and devil, All their power Can no more Do than mock and cavil. Let derision now employ them, Christ e’en here Will appear And ’fore all destroy them. 7. True believers, shrinking never, Where they dwell, Should reveal Their true colors ever. When approaching death would scare them, Still should they Patient stay And with courage bear them. 8. Death can never kill us even, But relief From all grief To us then is given. It doth close life’s mournful story, Makes a way That we may Pass to heavenly glory. 9. There I’ll reap enduring pleasure, After woe Here below Suffered in large measure. Lasting good we find here never, All the earth Deemeth worth Vanisheth forever. 10. What is all this life possesseth? But a hand Full of sand That the heart distresseth. Noble gifts that pall me never Christ so free There gives me To enjoy forever. 11. Lord, Thou Fount of joy forever, Thou art mine, I am Thine, No one can us sever. I am Thine, because Thou gavest Life and blood For my good, By Thy death me savest. 12. Thou art mine, I love and own Thee, Ne’er shall I, Light of joy, From my heart dethrone Thee. Let me, let me, soon behold Thee Face to face,—Thy embrace, May it soon enfold me! Paul Gerhardt, 1653; J. Kelly, tr., a. 502 C. M. Dear Refuge of my weary soul, On Thee, when sorrows rise, On Thee, when waves of trouble roll, My fainting hope relies. 2. To Thee I tell each rising grief, For Thou alone canst heal; Thy Word can bring a sweet relief For every pain I feel. 3. Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face? And shall I seek in vain? And can the ear of pardoning grace Be deaf when I complain? 4. No, still the ear of saving grace Attends the mourner’s prayer; O may I ever find access To breathe my sorrows there! Anne Steele, 1760. 503 L. M.