« PreviousContinue »
Whose grace can beal the bursting heart,
With one reviving word.
We kiss his scourging hand ;
HYMN 186. C. M.
Dan. v. 5, 6.
Of everlasting woe.
The Lord of bosts defy'd ;
And humbled all his pride.
And trembled on his throne,
In characters unknown. 4 See him, o'erwhelm'd with deep distress!
His eyes with anguish roll;
The terrors of his soul.
No more delight afford:
Begin to seek the Lord. 6 The law, like this hand-writing, stands,
And speaks the wrath of God; But Jesus answers its demands,
And cancels it with blood.
HYMN 187. L. M.
Matt. xiii. 37-42.
1 The wheat and tares together grow; Jesus ere long will weed the crop, And pluck the tares in anger up. 2 Will it relieve their horrors there, To recollect their stations here? How much they heard, how much they knew, How long among the wheat they grew! 3 Oh! this will aggravate their case ! They perish under means of grace; To them the word of life and faith Became an instrument of death. 4 We seem alike when thus we meet, Strangers might think we all were wheat; But to the Lord's all-searching eyes, Each heart appears without disguise. 5 The tares are spar'd for various ends, Some, for the sake of praying friends; Others, the Lord against their will, Employs his counsels to fulfil. 6 But though they grow so tall and strong, His plan will not require them long; In harvest, when he saves his own, The tares shall into hell be thrown.
HYMN 188. Eights and Sevens.
Blind Bartimeus. Mark x. 41. 48. 5 M ERCY, O thou son of David ""
11 Thus the blind Bartim'us pray'd ; Others by thy word are saved, Now to me afford thine aid.
2 Many for his crying chid him,
HYMN 189. L. M.
1 Cor. vi. 19. 1 John v. 21.
2 The joyful news transports ny breast,
The Pilgrim's Song.
Tow'rds heav'n thy native place. Sun, and moon, and stars decay,
Time shall soon this earth remove; Rise, my soul, and haste away
To seats prepar'd above. . 2 Rivers to the ocean run,
Nor stay in all their course : Fire ascending seeks the sun,
Buth speed them to their source : So a soul that's born of God,
Pants to view his glorious face; Upward tends to his abode,
To rest in his embrace. 3 Fly me riches, fly me cares,
While I that coast explore ; Flatering world, with all thy snares,
Solicit me no more.
Pilgrims fix not here their home,
Strangers tarry but a night; When the last dear morn is come,
They'll rise to joyful light. 4 Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to moum,
Press onward to the prize;
Triumphant in the skies:
Welcom'd to partake the bliss;
HYMN 191. L. M.
The Christian Warfare. TESUS, my king, proclaims the war,
“Awake, the pow'rs of hell are near! “ Arm with my grace!" I hear him cry,
'Tis yours to conquer, or to die." 2 Rous'd by the animating sound, I cast my eager eyes around; Make haste to gird my armour on, And bid each trembling fear be gone. 3 Hope is my helmet, faith my shield, The word of God, the sword I wield; With sacred truth my loins are girt, And holy zeal inspires my heart. 4 Thus arm’d, I venture on the fight, Resolv'd to put my foes to flight; While Jesus kindly deigns to spread His conqu’ring banner o'er my head. 5 In him I hope, in him I trust; His bleeding cross is all my boast; Thro' troops of foes he'll lead me on To vict ry, and the victor's crown.