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 XLV. 
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XLVIII.

[To whom should I for succour fly]

To whom should I for succour fly,
While danger, pain, and death are nigh,
And nature's fears return?
Jesus, my only sure relief,
I tell to Thee my secret grief,
And in Thy bosom mourn.
I fear, lest in my trying hour
The strength of pain should quite o'erpower
My soul's infirmity,
Lest, when my sorrows most prevail,
My patience and my faith should fail,
And leave me void of Thee.
Even now I faint o'erwhelm'd with dread,
I tremble at my greatest need
Lest Thou shouldst hide Thy face,
Afflict me more than I can bear,
And then withhold the aid of prayer,
The power to sue for grace.
Yet though I am sometimes afraid,
On Thee my feeble mind is stay'd,
My trust is in the Lord,
I hold Thee with a trembling hand,
And borne above myself I stand,
Supported by Thy word.

55

In God my Saviour I confide,
Whose truth and love are on my side;
If now for help I pray,
Thou in the depth of my distress
Wilt send a word of heavenly grace,
And save me through that day.
Thou wilt, I humbly trust, impart
The sense of pardon to my heart,
The witness of Thy love:
Thy love shall all my griefs control,
Thy love shall calm my fluttering soul,
And hide my life above.
Arm'd with Thy love and patient mind,
I come, to Thy bless'd will resign'd,
For all events prepared,
Soon as I know my pardon seal'd,
Assured that Jesus is my shield,
And infinite reward.