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Sunday, August 18, 2013

Fall Bouquet with Oranges and I love the Lord: he heard my cries and Far from my heavenly home

  I love the Lord:  he heard my cries,
  And pitied every groan;
Long as I live, when troubles rise,
  I’ll hasten to his throne.

  I love the Lord:  he bowed his ear,
  And chased my grief away;
O let my heart no more despair,
  While I have breath to pray.

  The Lord beheld me sore distressed:
  He bade my pains remove:
Return, my soul, to God, thy rest,
  For thou hast known his love.

Isaac WattsFar from my heavenly home,
  Far from my Father’s breast,
Fainting I cry, “Blest Spirit, come
  And speed me to my rest.”

Upon the willows long
  My harp has silent hung:
How should I sing a cheerful song
  Till thou inspire my tongue?

My spirit homeward turns,
  And fain would thither flee:
My heart, O Zion, droops and yearns
  When I remember thee.

To thee, to thee I press,
  A dark and toilsome road:
When shall I pass the wilderness,
  And reach the saints’ abode?

God of my life, be near;
  On Thee my hopes I cast:
O guide me through the desert here,
 And bring me home at last.

Rev. Henry F. Lyte

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