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HYMNS FOR CHILDHOOD. 201
THE GOD OF MY CHILDHOOD. F. W. Fabeb.
0 God ! who wert my childhood's love, My boyhood's pure delight,
A presence felt the livelong day, A welcome fear at night!
They bid me call thee Father, Lord!
Sweet was the freedom deemed; And yet, more like a mother's ways
Thy quiet mercies seemed.
1 could not sleep unless thy hand Were underneath my head,
That I might kiss it if I lay Wakeful upon my bed.
And quite alone I never felt: I knew that thou wert near�
A silence tingling in the room, A strangely pleasant fear.
I know not what I thought of thee,
What picture I had made Of that Eternal Majesty
To whom my childhood prayed.
I know I used to lie awake
And tremble at the shape Of my own thoughts, yet did not wish
Thy terrors to escape.
With age thou grewest more divine,
More glorious than before : I feared thee with a deeper fear
Because I loved thee more.
Thou broadenest out with every year, Each breadth of life to meet;
I scarce can think thou art the same, Thou art so much more sweet.
Father! what hast thou grown to now ?
A joy all joys above; Somethiug more sacred than a fear,
More tender than a love.
With gentle swiftness lead me on,
Dear God! to see thy face ; And meanwhile in my narrow heart
Oh, make thyself more space!
WHEN ALL THY MERCIES, O MY GOD.
When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys, Transported with the view, I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise.
Uunumbered comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestowed, Before my infant heart conceived
From whom those comforts flowed.
Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ; Nor is the least a thankful heart
That tastes those gifts with joy.
Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll pursue; And after death, in distant worlds,
The glorious theme renew.
Through all eternity, to thee
A joyful soug I'll raise; And, oh, eternity's too short
To utter all thy praise!
O JESU, THOU ART STANDING,
O Jesu, thou art standing
Outside the fast-closed door, In lowly patience waiting
To pass the threshold o'er! We bear the name of Christians,
His name and sign we bear; Oh, shame, thrice shame upon us,
To keej> him standing there!
O Jesu, thou art knocking,
And lo! that hand is scarred; And thorns thy brow encircle,
And tears thy face have marred! O love that passeth knowledge,
So patiently to wait! 0 sin that hath no equal,
So fast to bar the gate!
O Jesu, thou art pleading, In accents meek and low :