2 There’s nothing dark below, above, But in its gloom I trace thy love, And meekly wait the moment when Thy touch shall make all bright again. 3 The light, the dark, where’er I look, Shall be one pure and shining book, Where I may read, in words of flame, The glories of thy wondrous name. 64 L. M. Be thou exalted, O my God. My God, in whom are all the springs Of boundless love and grace unknown, Hide me beneath thy spreading wings, Till the dark cloud is overblown. 2 Up to the heavens I send my cry, The Lord will my desires perform; He sends his angels from the sky, And saves me from the threatening storm, 3 My heart is fixed: my song shall raise Immortal honors to thy name; Awake, my tongue, to sound his praise, My tongue, the glory of my frame. 4 High o’er earth his mercy reigns, And reaches to the utmost sky; His truth to endless years remains, When lower worlds dissolve and die. 5 Be thou exalted, O my God! Above the heavens where angels dwell; Thy power on earth be known abroad, And land to land thy wonders tell. 65 L. M. Unchanging trust. No change of time shall ever shock My firm affection, Lord, to thee; For thou hast always been my rock, A fortress and defense to me. 2 Thou my deliverer art, my God; My trust is in thy mighty power; Thou art my shield from foes abroad— At home my safeguard and my tower. 3 To thee I will address my prayer, To whom all praise I justly owe; So shall I by thy watchful care, Be guarded from my treacherous foe. 66 L. M. God ever near. O love divine, that stooped to share Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear, On thee is cast each earth-born care, We smile at pain while thou art near! 2 Though long the weary way we tread, And sorrow crown each lingering year, No path we shun, no darkness dread, Our hearts still whispering thou art near! 3 When drooping pleasure turns to grief, And trembling faith is changed to fear, The murmuring wind, the quivering leaf, Shall softly tell us, thou art near! 4 On thee we fling our burdening woe, O love divine, for ever dear, Content to suffer while we know, Living and dying, thou art near! 67 L. M. Contentment. Phil. 4:11. O Lord, how full of sweet content My years of pilgrimage are spent! Where’er I dwell, I dwell with thee, In heaven, in earth, or on the sea. 2 To me remains nor place nor time; My country is in every clime: I can be calm and free from care On any shore, since God is there.