2 I love in solitude to shed The penitential tear; And all his promises to plead, Where none but God can hear. 3 I love to think on mercies past, And future good implore, And all my cares and sorrows cast On him whom I adore. 4 I love, by faith, to take a view Of brighter scenes in heaven; The prospect doth my strength renew, While here by tempests driven. 5 Thus, when life’s toilsome day is o’er, May its departing ray Be calm as this impressive hour, And lead to endless day. 563 C. M. My Saviour died for me. Thou art my hiding-place, O Lord, In thee I fix my trust, Encouraged by thy holy word, A feeble child of dust. 2 I have no argument beside, I urge no other plea, And ’tis enough—the Saviour died, The Saviour died for me. 3 When storms of fierce temptation beat, And furious foes assail, My refuge is the mercy-seat, My hope within the vail. 4 From strife of tongues and bitter words, My spirit flies to thee; Joy to my heart the thought affords— My Saviour died for me. 5 And when thy awful voice commands This body to decay, And life, in its last lingering sands, Is ebbing fast away— 6 Then, though it be in accents weak, My voice shall call on thee, And ask for strength in death to speak— “My Saviour died for me.” 564 C. M. Let us draw near. Heb. 10:22. Approach, my soul, the mercy-seat, Where Jesus answers prayer; There humbly fall before his feet, For none can perish there. 2 Thy promise is my only plea, With this I venture nigh; Thou callest burdened souls to thee, And such, O Lord, am I. 3 Bowed down beneath a load of sin, By Satan sorely pressed, By war without, and fear within, I come to thee for rest. 4 Be thou my shield and hiding-place; That, sheltered near thy side, I may my fierce accuser face, And tell him, “Thou hast died.” 5 O, wondrous love, to bleed and die, To bear the cross and shame, That guilty sinners, such as I, Might plead thy gracious name! 565 C. M. Prayer. Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire, Unuttered or expressed; The motion of a hidden fire That trembles in the breast. 2 Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear; The upward glancing of an eye When none but God is near. 3 Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try; Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high. 4 Prayer is the contrite sinner’s voice, Returning from his ways, While angels in their songs rejoice, And say—“Behold he prays.”