As o’er the past my memory strays, Why heaves the secret sigh? ’Tis that I mourn departed days, Still unprepared to die. 2 The world and worldly things beloved, My anxious thoughts employed; And time, unhallowed, unimproved, Presents a fearful void. 3 Yet, Holy Father, wild despair Chase from my laboring breast; Thy grace it is which prompts the prayer, That grace can do the rest. 4 My life’s brief remnant all be thine; And when thy sure decree Bids me this fleeting breath resign, O, speed my soul to thee. 872 C. M. Let me not wander from thy commandments. Psalm 119:10. Alas, what hourly dangers rise! What snares beset my way! To heaven, O, let me lift mine eyes, And hourly watch and pray. 2 How oft my mournful thoughts complain, And melt in flowing tears! My weak resistance, ah, how vain! How strong my foes and fears! 3 O gracious God! in whom I live, My feeble efforts aid; Help me to watch, and pray, and strive, Though trembling and afraid. 4 Increase my faith, increase my hope, When foes and fears prevail; And bear my fainting spirit up, Or soon my strength will fail. 5 O, keep me in thy heavenly way, And bid the tempter flee! And let me never, never stray From happiness and thee. 873 S. M. Ever with the Lord. 1 Thess. 4:17. “For ever with the Lord,” Amen, so let it be; Life from the dead is in that word, ’Tis immortality. 2 Here in the body pent, Absent from him I roam, Yet nightly pitch my moving tent A day’s march nearer home. 3 My Father’s house on high, Home of my soul, how near At times, to faith’s aspiring eye, Thy golden gates appear! 4 Ah, then my spirit faints, To reach the land I love, The bright inheritance of saints, Jerusalem above. 5 Yet doubts still intervene, And all my comfort flies; Like Noah’s dove, I flit between Rough seas and stormy skies. 6 Anon the clouds depart, The winds and waters cease; While sweetly o’er my gladdened heart Expands the bow of peace. 874 C. M. peculiar. The fashion of this world, etc. 1 Cor. 7:31. This world is poor from shore to shore, And, like a baseless vision, Its lofty domes and brilliant ore, Its gems and crowns are vain and poor; There’s nothing rich but heaven. 2 Empires decay, and nations die, Our hopes to winds, are given; The vernal blooms in ruin lie, Death reigns o’er all beneath the sky; There’s nothing sure but heaven.