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402 The Book of Praise.
" I fain would strike my harp divine*
" Before the Father's throne, " There cast my crown of Righteousness,
" And sing what grace has done !
'" Ah ! leave me not in this base world,
" A stranger still to roam ; *' Come, Lord, and take me to Thyself;
"Come, Jesus, quickly come !"
Robert C. Chapman. 1837—1852.
Jesus, 1 my cross have taken,
All to leave, and follow Thee ; Destitute, despised, forsaken,
Thou, from hence, my all shalt be : Perish every fond ambition,
All I've sought, or hoped, or known ; Yet how rich is my condition !
God and Heaven are still my own !
Let the world despise and leave me,
They have left my Saviour too ; Human hearts and looks deceive me ;
Thou art not, like them, untrue : And, while Thou shalt smile upon me,
God of wisdom, love, and might, Foes may hate, and friends may shun me ;
Show Thy face, and all is bright!
Go, then, earthly fame and treasure !
Come, disaster, scorn, and pain ! In Thy service, pain is pleasure,
With Thy favour, loss is gain!