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Pulpit and Press – HYMNS

 1	           CHRIST MY REFUGE 

  	              O'er waiting harpstrings of the mind
 3	                  There sweeps a strain,
  	              Low, sad, and sweet, whose measures bind
  	                  The power of pain. 

 6	              And wake a white-winged angel throng
  	                  Of thoughts, illumed
  	              By faith, and breathed in raptured song,
 9	                  With love perfumed. 

  	              Then His unveiled, sweet mercies show
  	                  Life's burdens light. 
12	              I kiss the cross, and wake to know
  	                  A world more bright. 

  	              And o'er earth's troubled, angry sea
15	                  I see Christ walk,
  	              And come to me, and tenderly,
  	                  Divinely talk. 

18	              Thus Truth engrounds me on the rock,
  	                  Upon Life's shore;
  	              'Gainst which the winds and waves can shock,
21	                  Oh, nevermore! 

  	              From tired joy and grief afar,
  	                  And nearer Thee, — 
24	              Father, where Thine own children are,
  	                  I love to be. 

 

Pulpit and Press – HYMNS                                                          19


 1	              My prayer, some daily good to do
  	                 To Thine, for Thee;
 3	              An offering pure of Love, whereto
  	               ...God leadeth me.
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