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Lord it is Eventide

Lord, it is eventide: the light of day is waning;
Far o’er the golden land earth’s voices faint and fall;
Lowly we pray to Thee for strength and love sustaining,
Lowly we ask of Thee Thy peace upon us all.
Oh, grant unto our souls –

Blest are the Pure in Heart

Blest are the pure in heart,
For they shall see our God;
The secret of the Lord is theirs,
Their soul is Christ’s abode.

The Lord, who left the heavens
Our life and peace to bring,
To dwell in lowliness with men,
Their pattern and their King;

Still to the lowly soul
He doth Himself impart,
And for His dwelling and His throne
Chooseth the pure in heart.

Forth in Thy Name

Forth in Thy name, O Lord, I go,
My daily labour to pursue;
Thee, only Thee, resolved to know,
In all I think or speak or do.

The task Thy wisdom hath assigned
O let me cheerfully fulfil;
In all my works Thy presence find,
And prove Thy good and perfect will.

Thee may I set at my right hand,
Whose eyes my inmost substance see
And labour on at Thy command,
And offer all my works to Thee.