O thou pure light of souls that love, True joy of every human breast, Sower of life’s immortal seed, Our Saviour and Redeemer blest! 2 Be thou our guide, be thou our goal; Be thou our pathway to the skies; Our joy when sorrow fills the soul; In death our everlasting prize. 555 L. M. The tranquil hour. Thou, Saviour, from thy throne on high, Enrobed with light, and girt with power, Dost note the thought, the prayer, the sigh, Of hearts that love the tranquil hour. 2 Oft thou thyself didst steal away, At eventide, from labor done, In some still peaceful shade to pray, Till morning watches were begun. 3 Thou hast not, dearest Lord, forgot Thy wrestlings on Judea’s hills; And still thou lovest the quiet spot Where praise the lowly spirit fills. 4 Now to our souls, withdrawn awhile From earth’s rude noise, thy face reveal, And, as we worship, kindly smile, And for thine own our spirits seal. 5 To thee we bring each grief and care, To thee we fly while tempests lower; Thou wilt the weary burdens bear Of hearts that love the tranquil hour. 556 L. M. Exhortation to prayer. What various hindrances we meet In coming to a mercy-seat! Yet who, that knows the worth of prayer, But wishes to be often there? 2 Prayer makes the darkened clouds withdraw; Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw, Gives exercise to faith and love, Brings every blessing from above. 3 Restraining prayer, we cease to fight; Prayer makes the Christian’s armor bright; And Satan trembles, when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees. 4 Have you no words? Ah, think again; Words flow apace when we complain, And fill a fellow-creature’s ear With the sad tale of all our care. 5 Were half the breath thus vainly spent, To heaven in supplication sent, Our cheerful song would oftener be, “Hear what the Lord has done for me!” 557 L. M. They that believe do enter into rest. Heb. 4:3. My only Saviour! when I feel O’erwhelmed in spirit, faint, oppressed, ’Tis sweet to tell thee, while I kneel Low at thy feet, thou art my rest. 2 I’m weary of the strife within; Strong powers against my soul contest; O, let me turn from self and sin, To thy dear cross, for there is rest! 3 O! sweet will be the welcome day, When from her toils and woes released, My parting soul in death shall say, “Now, Lord! I come to thee for rest.” 558 C. M. Prayer for contentment.