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ow sweet  it  is  to  feel,  dear  Lord, That Thou  wilt  surely  see Each work,  or  thought,  or  act  of  mine That may  be  done  for  Thee!

That when  I  try,  with  pure  intent. To serve,  to  please,  to  love  Thee, Thy watchful  Heart  each  effort  knows. Thy blessing  rests  above  me.

Empty my  soul  of  all  desire Man's idle  praise  to  seek. Hide me  in  Thee,  for  Thou  dost  know How frail  I  am  — and  weak.

Take Thou  my  all,  since  for  so  long Thy providence  has  sought  me, Make me  Thine  own  since  at  such  cost Thy precious  blood  has  bought  me.

Live, Jesus,  live,  so  live  in  me. That all  I  do  be  done  by  Thee, And grant  that  all  I  think  and  say May be  Thy  thoughts  and  words  to-day. — Leaflets.