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O, let us exalt our dear Lord and proclaim,
In songs of true gratitude, praise to His name!
As songs of the angels in sweetest accord,
Our thanks and our praises shall rise to the Lord.
-- Zion's Harp # 165

Hymn Information

The School Of The Cross

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Alternate Zion's Harp Numbers: 67, 158, 179

O teach me, Lord, instead of grieving,
And wishing all my burdens moved,
To bear them patiently, perceiving
How Thou hast suffered, borne and loved.
Teach me the art of keeping silent,
That calm, contented I remain;
Crossbearer, Thee, I would resemble,
O change to love my bitterest pain!

Thou knowest how I oft forget Thee,
Though from myself the fact I hide,
How proud I love my strength to measure
When Thou dost not a cross provide.
From overconfidence to save me,
To show me plainly what I am,
Thou must provide a cross to shame me,
For only thus my pride shall wane.

Thou knowest how 'midst earth's confusion
I oft Thy ways almost forsook;
How often I deceiving feelings
For forward steps in faith mistook.
To prove to me my inward damage,
That I was far from Thee astray,
Hast Thou a cross upon me laden
Upon a dark and thorny way.

Thou know'st how oft I come before Thee
And prize it not, that Thou art near
To pray but empty words and phrases
Moved by a sense of duty here.
Is prayer to bring to me a blessing?
Am I to feel that Thou dost hear?
A cross must on my soul be pressing;
Thou to my broken heart art near.

O Lord, Thou knowest every secret,
Thou seest, hearest, knowest all.
My sighs and groans, although yet sleeping,
Thou in advance by name dost call.
O grant that Thou, Lord, and Thy purpose
My foremost thought in life may be;
Yea, in Thy silence take and hide me,
Or I shall ne'er from sin be free,

Lord, in Thy presence naught is lacking,
No wish denied, but all is right;
Transformed to love is all my burden,
The yoke is eased, the load seems light.
For in Thy stillness nothing threatens
The soul amidst earth's woe and pain.
To me Thy grace shall be sufficient,
The cross shall be my greatest gain.

No more complaining, no more grieving,
But grateful praise shall be my lot;
Although chastised, amid oppression,
Thy love and grace forsake me not.
The paths that seem to us the darkest
Are blessings rich, although disguised;
All things for good shall work together
To them that love Thee, Jesus Christ.

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