Lie still, e’en here, and search the hidden cause;

O’er every sin has victory been won?

Then trust in God o’er this dark, dreary way,

And say, Dear Lord, thy will, not mine, be done.

The broken heart, the humble, contrite one,

God will relieve from sin’s dark, heavy load;

He will reveal himself a present help,

And make for us a sure and safe abode.

For such as these a resting place remains,

When earth’s dark scenes and trials all are o’er;

A home in Heaven where saints and angels are

Chanting glad songs of glory evermore.

Deny Thyself.

The word we preach is nigh thee,

Is in thy mouth and heart,

To cease from every evil,

From every idol part.

The last decree, how solemn,

Except we conquer now,

No remedy can reach us,

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