Let pure religion, undefiled,
Be the path of God’s own child.
To walk unspotted before Him;
To dry the eyes with sorrow dim.
To speak to her whose stay is gone,
That she may lean on God alone,
And tell her of the heart of love,
Who watches over all above!
Let pure religion, undefiled,
Shelter still the orphan child,
That he may thus the Father know,
Who sent His Son on earth below.
To seek the hopeless, helpless, lost,
The soul by sin and Satan tost
Upon the stormy sea of sin,
To rest with Him, to rest within, —
To rest within—to rest with God—
To lean upon His staff and rod;
His home and heart to fully share,
Who calls the widow, orphan, there,
And bids them come in Jesu’s name,
Who died for this the death of shame,
That they might from the world be free,
And rest in God’s own liberty.
O tender love of Christ in God,
Who bore for us the smiting rod—
The rod of His most righteous hand—
Bore it all, that we might stand
Within His presence bright and clear,
And know His joy the song to hear.
All honor, praise, and glory be
Unto Him who set us free!
T. M