3 In secret foldings they contain Unnumbered ears of golden grain: And heaven shall pour its beams around, Till the ripe harvest load the ground. 4 Then shall the trembling mourner come And bind his sheaves and bear them home; The voice long broke with sighs shall sing, Till heaven with hallelujahs ring. 608. L. M. 6l. Grant. "He is able to save unto the uttermost." 1 When vexing thoughts within me rise, And, sore dismayed, my spirit dies; Yet he who once vouchsafed to bear The sick'ning anguish of despair, Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry, The throbbing heart, the streaming eye. 2 When, mourning, o'er some stone I bend, Which covers all that was a friend, And from his voice, his hand, his smile, Divides me for a little while; Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed, For thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead. 3 And oh, when I have safely past Through every conflict but the last, Still, still unchanging, watch beside My painful bed--for thou hast died; Then point to realms of cloudless day, And wipe the latest tear away. 609. C. M. Cotton. God, the Refuge of the Afflicted. 1 Affliction is a stormy deep, Where wave resounds to wave; Though o'er our heads the billows roll, We know the Lord can save. 2 When darkness and when sorrows rose, And pressed on every side, The Lord hath still sustained our steps, And still hath been our Guide. 3 Perhaps, before the morning dawn, He will restore our peace; For he who bade the tempest roar, Can bid the tempest cease. 4 Here will we rest, here build our hopes, Nor murmur at his rod; He's more to us than all the world, Our Health, our Life, our God. 610. L. M. Miss Dodd. "Thy will be done." 1 My Father, grant thy presence nigh To bear aloft my sinking soul, When sorrow o'er my pathway here In widely whelming waves doth roll. O, teach mine else unguarded heart, The clouds of gloomy doubt to shun, To bow unto thy chastening hand, And meekly say "Thy will be done." 2 Though dark to us thy ways may seem, Thy needful chastisements severe; Thou dost not willingly afflict, Nor grieve thy erring children here. O, teach my heart to lean on thee, To faith and resignation won, To see thy love in all its ways, And humbly say, "Thy will be done." 611. 7s. M. Anonymous. Holy Contentment. 1 Lord, my times are in thy hand: All my fondest hopes have planned To thy wisdom I resign, And would make thy purpose mine. 2 Thou my daily task shalt give; Day by day to thee I live: So shall added years fulfil Not my own, my Father's will.