216
L. M.
His promises are yea and amen.
Saviour, I lift my trembling eyes,
To that bright seat, where, placed on high,
The great, the atoning sacrifice,
For me, for all, is ever nigh.
2 Be thou my guard on peril’s brink;
Be thou my guide through weal or woe;
And teach me of thy cup to drink,
And make me in thy faith to go.
3 For what is earthly change or loss?
Thy promises are still my own:
The feeblest frame may bear thy cross,
The lowliest spirit share thy throne.