5 Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath, The Christian’s native air, His watchword at the gate of death; He enters heaven with prayer. 566 C. M. Filled with all the fullness of God. O Lord, I would delight in thee, And on thy care depend; To thee in every trouble flee, My best, my only Friend. 2 When all created streams are dried, Thy fullness is the same; May I with this be satisfied, And glory in thy name! 3 No good in creatures can be found, But what is found in thee: I must have all things and abound While God is God to me. 4 O that I had a stronger faith, To look within the vail— To credit what my Saviour saith, Whose word can never fail. 5 He who has made my heaven secure, Will here all good provide: While Christ is rich, can I be poor? What can I want beside? 6 O Lord, I cast my care on thee; I triumph and adore: Henceforth my great concern shall be To love and please thee more. 567 S. M. Ask and it shall be given you. Luke 11:9. Jesus, my strength, my hope, On thee I cast my care, With humble confidence look up, And know thou hearest my prayer. 2 Give me on thee to wait Till I can all things do; On thee, almighty to create, Almighty to renew. 3 I want a sober mind, A self-renouncing will, That tramples down, and casts behind, The baits of pleasing ill; 4 A soul inured to pain, To hardships, grief, and loss; Bold to take up, firm to sustain The consecrated cross; 5 I want a godly fear, A quick-discerning eye, That looks to thee when sin is near, And sees the tempter fly; 6 A spirit still prepared, And armed with jealous care, For ever standing on its guard, And watching unto prayer. 568 S. M. D. Opening prayer meeting. It is the hour of prayer: Draw near and bend the knee, And fill the calm and holy air With voice of melody! O’erwearied with the heat And burden of the day, Now let us rest our wandering feet, And gather here to pray. 2 O, blesséd is the hour That lifts our hearts on high! Like sunlight when the tempests lower, Prayer to the soul is nigh; Though dark may be our lot, Our eyes be dim with care, These saddening thoughts shall trouble not This holy hour of prayer. 569 C. H. M. Come, let us pray. Come, let us pray; ’tis sweet to feel That God himself is near; That while we at his footstool kneel, His mercy deigns to hear: Though sorrows cloud life’s dreary way, This is our solace—let us pray.