2 Of so divine a Guest Unworthy though I be, Yet has my heart no rest Unless it come from thee. 3 Unless it come from thee, In vain I look around; In all that I can see, No rest is to be found. 4 No rest is to be found, But in thy blesséd love: O let my wish be crowned, And send it from above! 835 6s & 5s. I have longed for thy salvation. Psalm 119:174. Purer yet and purer I would be in mind, Dearer yet and dearer Every duty find: 2 Hoping still, and trusting God without a fear Patiently believing He will make all clear: 3 Calmer yet and calmer Trial bear and pain, Surer yet and surer Peace at last to gain. 4 Suffering still and doing, To his will resigned, And to God subduing Heart, and will, and mind: 5 Higher yet and higher, Out of clouds and night, Nearer yet and nearer Rising to the light— 6 Oft these earnest longings Swell within my breast, Yet their inner meaning Ne’er can be expressed. 836 11s. I would not live alway. Job. 7:16. I would not live alway: I ask not to stay Where storm after storm rises dark o’er the way; The few cloudy mornings that dawn on us here Are enough for life’s woes, full enough for its cheer. 2 I would not live alway: no, welcome the tomb; Since Jesus has lain there, I dread not its gloom; There sweet be my rest, till he bid me arise To hail him in triumph descending the skies. 3 Who, who would live alway, away from his God, Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode, Where the rivers of pleasure flow o’er the bright plains, And the noontide of glory eternally reigns; 4 Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet, While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul! 837 11s. I am weary. I am weary of straying; O fain would I rest, In that far distant land of the pure and the blest; Where sin can no longer her blandishment spread, And tears and temptations for ever are fled. 2 I am weary of hoping, where hope is untrue, As fair but as fleeting, as morning’s bright dew; I long for the land whose blest promise alone Is as changeless and sure as eternity’s throne. 3 I am weary of sighing o’er sorrows of earth, O’er joy’s glowing visions, that fade at their birth, O’er pangs of the loved, which we can not assuage, O’er the blightings of youth, and the weakness of age.