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1 The world, with siren voice, Would oft my soul allure, To swerve me from the better choice, The good I would secure; I sing, the pow’r to gain, This old, familiar strain: A charge to keep I have, A God to glorify, A never-dying soul to save, And fit it for the sky. 2 I see the harvest field, The field already white, And all my life to Christ I yield, To serve Him with delight; My heart lifts up, with pray’r, This old, familiar air. To serve the present age, My calling to fulfill,— O may it all my pow’rs engage, To do my Master’s will. 3 Temptation throng around; I know my frailty still; But faith has found the solid ground, God will His word fulfill; His grace lights shadows dim; I sing the dear, old hymn: Help me to watch and pray, And on Thyself rely, Assured, if I my trust betray, I shall forever die. | New Songs of Praise and Power 1-2-3 Combined #87 (1922) |