2 Return unto thy rest, my soul, From all the wanderings of thy thought; From sickness unto death made whole; Safe through a thousand perils brought. 3 Then to thy rest, my soul return, From passions every hour at strife; Sin's works, and ways, and wages spurn, Lay hold upon eternal life. 4 God is thy rest;--with heart inclined To keep his word, that word believe; Christ is thy rest;--with lowly mind, His light and easy yoke receive. 501. C. M. Watts. Invocation of the Divine Spirit. 1 Come, holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, With all thy quickening powers, Kindle a flame of sacred love In these cold hearts of ours. 2 In vain we tune our formal songs, In vain we strive to rise; Hosannas languish on our tongues, And our devotion dies. 3 Dear Lord! and shall we ever live At this poor dying rate? Our love so faint, so cold to thee, And thine to us so great? 4 Come, holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, With all thy quickening powers, Come, shed abroad a Saviour's love, And that shall kindle ours. 502. C. M. Beddome. For Inward Truth. 1 Am I an Israelite indeed. Without a false disguise? Have I renounced my sins, and left My refuges of lies? 2 Say, does my heart unchanged remain, Or is it formed anew? What is the rule by which I walk, The object I pursue? 3 Cause me, O God of truth and grace, My real state to know; If I am wrong, O set me right! If right, preserve me so! 503. C. M. Methodist Coll. Seeking God. 1 Talk with us, Lord, thyself reveal, While here o'er earth we rove; Speak to our hearts, and let us feel The kindling of thy love. 2 With thee conversing, we forget All time, and toil, and care; Labor is rest, and pain is sweet, If thou, my God, art here. 3 Here, then, my God, vouchsafe to stay, And bid my heart rejoice; My bounding heart shall own thy sway, And echo to thy voice. 504. L. M. Grigg. Not Ashamed of Christ. 1 Jesus! and shall it ever be! A mortal man ashamed of thee; Ashamed of thee, whom angels praise, Whose glories shine through endless days! 2 Ashamed of Jesus! just as soon Let midnight be ashamed of noon; 'Tis midnight with my soul, till he, Bright morning star, bid darkness flee. 3 Ashamed of Jesus! yes I may, When I've no guilt to wash away, No tear to wipe--no good to crave, No fears to quell--no soul to save. 4 Till then--nor is my boasting vain-- Till then, I boast a Saviour slain; And oh! may this my glory be, That Christ is not ashamed of me. 505. 7s. M. C. Wesley. The Simplicity of Christ.