320 Loving Kindness. L.M. _Love Which Passeth Knowledge._ Of him who did salvation bring, I could forever think and sing; Arise, ye needy, he'll relieve; Arise, ye guilty, he'll forgive. 2 Ask but his grace, and lo, 'tis given! Ask, and he turns your hell to heaven; Though sin and sorrow wound my soul, Jesus, thy balm will make me whole. 3 'Tis thee I love, for thee alone, I shed my tears, and make my moan! Where'er I am, where'er I move, I meet the object of my love. 4 Insatiate to this spring I fly; I drink, and yet am ever dry; Ah! who against thy charms is proof? Ah, who that loves can love enough? Bernard of Clairvaux, tr. by A.W. Boehm, 1712 321 The Solid Rock. L.M. _The Sure Foundation._ My hope is built on nothing less Than Jesus' blood and righteousness; I dare not trust the sweetest frame, But wholly lean on Jesus' name. Cho.--On Christ, the Solid Rock, I stand, All other ground is sinking sand. 2 When darkness veils his lovely face, I rest on his unchanging grace; In every high and stormy gale, My anchor holds within the vail. 3 His oath, his covenant, his blood, Support me in the whelming flood; When all around my soul gives way, He then is all my hope and stay. 4 When he shall come with trumpet sound. O, may I then in him be found; Dressed in his righteousness alone, Faultless to stand before the throne. Rev. Edward Mote, 1825. 322 How Can I but Love Him? 6s & 5s. _The Exceeding Love of Christ._ So tender, so precious. My Savior to me; So true, and so gracious, I've found him to be. Ref.--How can I but love him? But love him, but love him? There's no friend above him, Poor sinner, for thee. 2 So patient, so kindly Toward all of my ways; I blunder so blindly, He love still repays. 3 Of all friends the fairest And truest is he; His love is the rarest, That ever can be. 4 His beauty, tho' bleeding And circled with thorns, Is then most exceeding; For grief him adorns. J.E. Rankin, D.D. 323 My Beloved, 11s & 8s. _My Beloved._ O thou, in whose presence my soul takes delight, On whom in affliction I call; My comfort by day, and my song in the night, My hope, my salvation, my all. 2 Where dost thou at noon-tide resort with thy sheep, To feed in the pastures of love? And why in the valley of death should I weep, Or alone in the wilderness rove? 3 O, why should I wander an alien from thee, Or cry in the desert for bread? Thy foes will rejoice when my sorrows they see, And smile at the tears I have shed. 4 He looks, and ten thousands of angels rejoice, And myriads wait for his word; He speaks, and eternity, fill'd with his voice, Re-echoes the praise of the Lord. Jos. Swain, 1792. 324 De Fleury. 8s. D _The Presence of Christ Desired._