Let the world despise and leave me, They have left my Saviour, too; Human hearts and looks deceive me; Thou art not, like man, untrue; And, while thou shalt smile upon me, God of wisdom, love, and might, Foes may hate and friends may shun me; Show thy face, and all is bright. Go, then, earthly fame and treasure! Come, disaster, scorn, and pain! In thy service, pain is pleasure; With thy favor, loss is gain. I have called thee, "Abba, Father"; I have stayed my heart on thee, Storms may howl, and clouds may gather, All must work for good to me. Man and trouble may distress me, 'Twill but drive me to thy breast; Life with trials hard may press me, Heaven will bring me sweeter rest. Oh, 'tis not in grief to harm me While thy love is left to me; Oh, 'twere not in joy to charm me Were that joy unmixed with thee. Know, my soul, thy full salvation; Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care; Joy to find in every station Something still to do or bear. Think what Spirit dwells within thee; What a Father's smile is thine; What a Saviour died to win thee: Child of heaven, shouldst thou repine? Haste thee on from grace to glory, Armed by faith and winged by prayer; Heaven's eternal day's before thee, God's own hand shall guide thee there. Soon shall close thy earthly mission, Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days, Hope shall change to glad fruition, Faith to sight and prayer to praise. Oh, pity the seekers after God who go to a house of prayer to be provoked and harassed by the performance of some gymnastic performance in acoustics, by some professional entertainer of theatrical audiences. Pity, indeed, the devout soul pleading for comfort in some deep sorrow whose sore heart is wrenched and bruised by the discordant attempts to leap, catlike, from shelf to shelf, up and down the musical scale. Pity the overtempted contrite sinner who enters to pray for the strength to keep his resolution to reform and finds himself in a sham ceremonial which introduces the inartistic performers who almost force him to do worse. The extremely cultivated voice which seeks a prize exhibition of varied tones, or the extremely crude egotism of the community singer who ties himself in squirming knots as he yells the sacred and pathetic hymns which were written for the deep devotions of a broken heart are both sacrilegious and disgraceful. Pity the congregation who, after wasting a most precious hour inside, hasten out, discussing along the street the wonders of the wild musical exhibition, and forgetting that they went in to worship.