1 What shall we render, bounteous Lord, For all the grace we see? The goodness feeble man can yield Extendeth not to thee. 2 To scenes of woe, to beds of pain, We'll cheerfully repair, And, with the gifts thy hand bestows, Relieve the sufferers there. 3 The widow's heart shall sing for joy; The orphan shall be glad; And hungering souls we'll gladly point To Christ, the living bread. 4 Thus what our heavenly Father gave Shall we as freely give; Thus copy him who lived to save, And died that we might live. 786. L. M. Miss Woodman. Prayer for a Beneficent Spirit. 1 God guard the poor! We may not see The deepest sorrows of the soul; These are laid open, Lord, to thee, And subject to thy wise control. 2 Make us thy messengers to shed Within the home of want and woe, The blessings of thy bounty, spread So freely on thy world below. 3 Let us go forth with joyful hand To strengthen, comfort and relieve; Then in thy presence may we stand, And hope thy blessing to receive. 787. L. M. Montgomery. For a Public Hospital or Asylum. 1 When, like a stranger on our sphere, The lowly Jesus wandered here, Where'er he went, affliction fled. And sickness reared her fainting head. 2 Demoniac madness, dark and wild, In his inspiring presence smiled; The storm of horror ceased to roll, And reason lightened through the soul. 3 Through paths of loving-kindness led, Where Jesus triumphed, we would tread; To all, with willing hands, dispense The crumbs of our benevolence. 4 Here the whole family of woe Shall friends, and home, and comfort know; The blasted form and shipwrecked mind Shall here a tranquil haven find. 5 And Thou, dread Power, whose sovereign breath Is health or sickness, life or death, This favored mansion deign to bless; The cause is thine--send thou success! 788. L. M. Mrs. Nichols. Anniversary of an Orphan Asylum. 1 Our Father! we may lisp that name, When lowly at thy feet we bow; Thy little children lightly blame, For thou'rt our only parent now! 2 We are a stricken, humble band, With hearts that thrill to words of love, And cling confiding to the hand That points us to a home above. 3 Though 'mong the lowly of the earth, Contented with our homely fare, How cheerful was the orphan's hearth Before cold Death had entered there 4 No mother's voice soothes us to rest-- No father's smile our vision greets: Yet we've a home in every breast That with a tender feeling beats. 5 And thou hast raised us many a friend, Not bound by ties of kindred blood; Then let our hearts in prayer ascend To thee, our Father--Saviour--God!