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2 He riseth to his task,
Soon as the word is given, Nor waits, nor doth a question ask, When orders come from heaven.
3 Nothing he calls his own;
Nothing he hath to say; |
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His feet are shod for God alone,
And God alone obey. 4 Give us, O God, this mind,
Which waits for Thy command, And doth his highest pleasure find
In Thy great work to stand.
Rev. Thomas C. Upham, 1871 |
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2 What is my being but for Thee,
Its sure support, its noblest end, Thine ever-smiling face to see, .
And serve the cause of such a friend!
3 'Tis to my Saviour I would live,
To Him who for my ransom died; |
Nor could the bowers of Eden give Such bliss as blossoms at His side.
His work my hoary age shall bless, When youthful vigor is no more;
And my last hour of life confess His dying love, His saving power. '
Rev. Philip Doddridge, 1740 |
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