And Help Us, This And Every Day,

Blest Are The Pure In Heart, For They Shall See Our God. The Secret Of The Lord Is Theirs; Their Soul Is Christ's Abode.

Soft As Memnon's Harp At Morning, To The Inward Ear Devout, Touched By Light, With Heavenly Warning Your Transporting Chords Ring Out. Every Leaf In Every Nook, Every Wave In Every Brook, Chanting With A Solemn Voice Minds Us Of Our Better Choice.

Sweet Is The Smile Of Home; The Mutual Look When Hearts Are Of Each Other Sure.

Sweet Is The Infant's Waking Smile, And Sweet The Old Man's Rest-- But Middle Age By No Fond Wile, No Soothing Calm Is Blest.

The Voice That Breathed O'er Eden, That Earliest Wedding Day.