Into thy loving hands; Who made my heart to love made Thee my guest; Who made the world to tire made thee my rest; My joyful heart I give, at thy behest, Into thy hands. --Louise Manning Hodgkins. HERE AM I My will would like a life of ease, And power to do, and time to rest, And health and strength my will would please, But, Lord, I know thy will is best. If I have strength to do thy will That should be power enough for me, Whether to work or to sit still The appointment of the day may be. And if by sickness I may grow More patient, holy and resigned, Strong health I need not wish to know, And greater ease I cannot find. And rest--I need not seek it here; For perfect rest remaineth still; When in thy presence we appear Rest shall be given by thy will. Lord I have given my life to thee, And every day and hour is thine; What thou appointest let them be: Thy will is better, Lord, than mine. --Anna B. Warner. THE SACRIFICE OF THE WILL Laid on thine altar, O my Lord Divine, Accept my will this day, for Jesus' sake; I have no jewels to adorn thy shrine-- Nor any world-proud sacrifice to make; But here I bring within my trembling hand, This will of mine--a thing that seemeth small, And Thou alone, O God, canst understand How, when I yield Thee this, I yield mine all. Hidden therein, thy searching gaze can see Struggles of passion--visions of delight-- All that I love, and am, and fain would be, Deep loves, fond hopes, and longings infinite. It hath been wet with tears and dimmed with sighs, Clinched in my grasp, till beauty hath it none-- Now, from thy footstool where it vanquished lies, The prayer ascendeth, "May thy will be done." Take it, O Father, ere my courage fail, And merge it so in thine own Will, that e'en If, in some desperate hour, my cries prevail, And thou give back my will, it may have been So changed, so purified, so fair have grown, So one with thee, so filled with peace divine, I may not see nor know it as my own, But, gaining back my will, may find it thine. Manlike is it to fall into sin, Fiendlike is it to dwell therein, Christlike is it for sin to grieve, Godlike is it all sin to leave. --Friedrich von Logau. O GOD OF TRUTH O God of Truth, whose living word Upholds whate'er hath breath, Look down on thy creation, Lord, Enslaved by sin and death. Set up thy standard, Lord, that they Who claim a heavenly birth May march with thee to smite the lies That vex thy ransomed earth. Ah! would we join that blest array, And follow in the might Of Him, the Faithful and the True, In raiment clean and white.