Friends are few nor can they heal Sorrows which we deepest feel; And when needed most forsake: Unto Jesus we'll betake, Breathing oft, while toiling on, --"_Christon Estaurômenon!_" When of every joy bereft, Nought but broken idols left, Lone we lie upon the earth, Strangers long to thought of mirth; Then we'll sigh though weeping on, --"_Christon Estaurômenon!_" Bleeds our heart the world to see, Chained by guilt in misery; We would heal our brother's woes, Break his fetters, bind his foes: We will cry, while passing on, --"_Christon Estaurômenon!_" When our Home shall shine in sight, When our fears are lost in light, When we hear the summons given, "Bring my way-worn ones to heaven!" We will shout, while wafted on, --"_Christon Estaurômenon!_" In that perfect world above,-- Perfect light and perfect love, At HIS feet our crowns we'll cast, And while heaven itself shall last, Swell the anthem ever on, --"_Christon Estaurômenon!_" ---------- [2]"Christ Crucified;" Welsh, "Crist Croeshoeliedig." VI. THE GOOD SHEPHERD. (FOR CHILDREN.) My gentle Lamb, O come to me! The ravenous wolf lurks near thy path; No fold is nigh, where wilt thou flee? The desert wild no safety hath: O come to me! Young art thou, tender Lamb, but warm My mantle round thee shall be pressed; And in my bosom, safe from harm Of storm or terror shalt thou rest. O come to me! And thou art feeble: I will find Of richest milk to nourish thee, And freshest herbs of sweetest kind, Thy daily pasturage shall be. O come to me! Thou shalt to glades, where ripple by Clear streams, where feed my lambkins, come; And when the shades of eve are nigh, I'll bear thee safely to my home. O come to me! O, haste, my precious Lamb, to me: Come prove me by my bleeding heart: My Father too is seeking thee. Nor shalt thou ever from us part. Haste now to me! VII. A FRIEND IN JORDAN. Who amid the swelling billows Can sustain my sinking head? None but that divine Redeemer, Who upon the cross hath bled. If He through the stormy current O'er the wave my head will bear, If a gracious look vouchsafe me, I will praise Him even there. VIII. A ROCK FOR A FOUNDATION. O seek a rock to build on, My soul! wilt thou not prove That strong and deep Foundation Which Earth, nor Hell, can move? How sweet in yonder River That Rock beneath my feet, When every doubt and terror Shall on my spirit beat!