115 SWEET HOUR OF PRAYER. L. M.D.

With expression.

53 92. 4

J. H. HALL.

1. Sweet hour of pray'r, sweet hour of pray'r, That calls me from a world of care, 2. Sweet hour of pray'r, sweet hour of pray'r, Thy wings shall my petition bear 3. Sweet hour of pray'r, sweet hour of pray'r, May I thy con -so-la-tion share,

253 22-4

And bids me at my Father's throne Make all my wants and wishes known.
To him whose truth and faithfulness En-gage the wait-ing soul to bless.
Till from Mount Pisgah's lofty height, I view my home and take my flight.

In seasons of distress and grief, My soul has often found re- lief, And since he bids me seek his face, Believe his word, and trust his grace, This robe of flesh I'll drop, and rise, To seize the ev er-last-ing prize,

And oft escaped the tempter's snare, By thy return, sweet hour of pray`r. I'll cast on him my ev-'ry care, And wait for thee. sweet hour of pray'r. And shout, while passing thro' the air, Farewell, farewell, sweet hour of pray'r. REV. W. W. WALFORD.

The Ruebush Kieffer Co., owners.

W. S. MARSHALL. By per.

116 I AM LISTENING.

4

1. Do you hear the Sav-iour call-ing, By the woo-ings of his voice? 2. By his Spir - it he is woo-ing, Soft ly draw-ing us to him, 3. By the Word of Truth he's speaking To the wand'ring, erring ones; 5. In his Prov-i - den-tial deal-ings, E-ven in his stern de- crees,

Do you hear the ac-cents fall-ing? Will you make the precious choice?
Thro' the day and night pur-su-ing, With his gentle voice to win.
List! the voice the still-ness breaking! Hear the sweet and solemn tones!
In the loud-est thun-ders peal-ing, Or the murm'ring of the breeze.

REFRAIN.

I am list'ning; oh, I'm list'n-ing Just to hear the ac-cents fall!

Repeat softly.

I am list'ning; oh, I'm list'ning To the Sav-iour's gentle call!

117 WITH GLOWING HEART I'D PRAISE THEE.

AUSTRIAN HYMN.

1. Lord, with glowing heart I'd praise thee For the bliss thy love bestows; 2. Praise, my soul, the God that sought thee, Wretched wand'rer far astray, 3. Lord, this bo- som's ar-dent feel-ing Vain-ly would my lips ex - press,

For the pard'ning grace that saves me, And the peace that from it flows; Found thee lost, and kindly brought thee From the paths of death a- way: Low be-fore thy foot-stool kneeling, Deign thy suppliant's pray'r to bless:

Help, O God, my weak endeav-or, This dull soul to rap- ture raise; Praise, with love's de-vout-est feel-ing, Him who saw thy guilt-born fear, Let thy grace, my soul's chief pleasure, Love's pure flame within me raise,

Thou must light the flame, or never Can my love be warm'd to praise, And, the light of hope re-veal-ing, Bade the blood-stain'd Cross ap-pear, And, since words can nev- er measure, Let my life show forth thy praise,