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How happy are the new-born race,
Partakers of adopting grace!
How pure the bliss they share!
Hid from the world and all its eyes,
Within their heart the blessing lies,
The spirit feels it there.
The moment we believe, 'tis ours;
And if we love with all our powers
The God from whom it came,
And if we serve with hearts sincere,
'Tis still discernible and clear,
An undisputed claim.
But ah! if foul and willful sin
Stain and dishonor us within,
Farewell the joy we knew;
Again the slaves of nature's sway
In labyrinths of sin we stray,
Without a guide or clew.
The chaste and pure who fear to grieve
The gracious Spirit they receive,
His work distinctly trace;
And, strong in undissembled love,
Boldly assert and clearly prove
Their hearts his dwelling-place.
O Messenger of dear delight,
Whose voice dispels the deepest night,
Sweet peace-proclaiming Dove!
With thee at hand to soothe our pains,
No wish unsatisfied remains,
No task but that of love.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 8 6 8 8 6
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
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Song #
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| 1899 | # 399 |
MUSIC
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Name:
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AITHLONE
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Meter:
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8 8 6 8 8 6
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Writer(s):
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Dates:
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LIST OF MUSIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Song #
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Key
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| # 399 | G |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
