I

2

3

4

5

6

Still all my song shall be-
'Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.'

7.

OME, mild and holy Dove,

Do Thou in us, make us in Thee,
For ever dwell and rest.

Come, and spread o'er our heads
Thy soft, all-soothing wing,

That in its shade we safe may sit,

And to Thee praises sing.

To Thee who giv'st us life—
Our better life of grace;

Who giv'st us health, and strength, and speed,

To run and win the race.

O my ungrateful soul!

What shall our dulness do

For Him who does all this for us,
Only our love to woo?

We'll love Thee then, dear Lord,
But Thou must give that love;
We'll humbly beg it of Thy grace,
But Thou our prayers must move.
O hear Thy Own self speak,
For Thou in us dost pray,

Thou canst as quickly grant as ask;
Thy grace knows no delay.

THE END.