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Be-neath, on earth, Thy foot-stool fair, Above, in heav'n, Thy throne.

A - men.

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ST. CATHERINE Six 8s.

H. F. Hemy and J. G. Walton, 1874

Thou hid-den Love of God, whose height, Whose depth unfathomed, no

man knows,

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I see from far Thy beau-teous light, In ly I sigh for Thy

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My heart is pained, nor can it be At rest till it finds rest in Thee.

Amen.

1 THOU hidden Love of God, whose height, 3 Is there a thing beneath the sun

Whose depth unfathomed, no man knows,

I see from far Thy beauteous light,

Inly I sigh for Thy repose;

My heart is pained, nor can it be
At rest till it finds rest in Thee.

2 'Tis mercy all, that Thou hast brought
My mind to seek her peace in Thee;
Yet while I seek, but find Thee not,
No peace my wandering soul shall see:
O when shall all my wanderings end,
And all my steps to Thee-ward tend!

That strives with Thee my heart to share? Ah! tear it thence, and reign alone,

The Lord of every motion there;
Then shall my heart from earth be free,
When it has found repose in Thee.

4 O Love, Thy sovereign aid impart

To save me from low-thoughted care; Chase this self-will through all my heart, Through all its latent mazes there; Make me Thy duteous child, that I, Ceaseless, may "Abba, Father!" cry.

5 Each moment draw from earth away
My heart, that lowly waits Thy call:
Speak to my inmost soul, and say,

"I am thy Love, thy God, thy All!"
To feel Thy power, to hear Thy voice,
To taste Thy love, be all my choice.

Gerhard Tersteegen, 1729; tr. John Wesley, 1736 (text of 1780)

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1 THOU art, O God, the life and light Of all this wondrous world we see; Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from Thee: Where'er we turn, Thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are Thine. 2 When day, with farewell beam, delays

Among the opening clouds of even, And we can almost think we gaze

Through golden vistas into heaven,— Those hues, that make the sun's decline So soft, so radiant, Lord, are Thine.

3 When night, with wings of starry gloom,
O'ershadows all the earth and skies,
Like some dark beauteous bird, whose plume
Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes,-
That sacred gloom, those fires divine,
So grand, so countless, Lord, are Thine,

4 When youthful spring around us breathes,
Thy Spirit warms her fragrant sigh,
And every flower the summer wreathes
Is born beneath that kindling eye:
Where'er we turn, Thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine.
Thomas Moore, 1816

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