See saints and angels joined in one, 2 I've fought through many a battle sore, 3 I've listed, and I mean to fight, Come, take the field and wear the crown. 5 With 'listing orders I am come Come rich, come poor, come old and young; 1 You'll sink into eternal night. HYMN 115. P. M. "Tis awful. 'Tis awful. that I had some humble place, Where I might hide from sorrow; Where I might see my Saviour's face, And still my Jesus follow. I have my bitter and my sweet, While through this world I travel; 1 THE CHRISTIAN MARINER. HYMN 116. P. M. HROUGH tribulation deep, This stormy course I keep, On these tempestuous seas; By waves and winds I'm toss'd and driv'n, Freighted with grace and bound to heav'n 2 Sometimes temptations blow A dreadful hurricane, And high the waters flow, And o'er my sides break in; But still my little ship outbraves The blust'ring winds and surging waves. 3 When I in my distress, My anchor, hope, can cast It holds my vessel fast; 'Midst stormy blasts and swelling tides. 4 If a dead calm ensues, And heav'n no breeezes give, The oar of prayer I use, I tug, and toil, and strive: Thro' storms and calms for many a day, 1 make but very little way. 5 But when a heavenly breeze Springs up and fills my sail, My vessel goes with ease Before the pleasant gale: And runs as much an hour, or more, 6 Hid by the clouds from sight, The sun doth not appear, Nor can I in the night Behold the moon or star; My quadrant FAITH, I take, By it the seas I know; I cannot with it part; It rocks and sands doth show: It is a chart and compass too, 9 I keep aloof from pride, These rocks I pass with care; The whirlwind of despair; 11 My vessel would be lost, Himself vouchsafes to steer; But all death's waves can't me o'erwhelm 13 When through this gulph I get, The pilot angels meet And bring me into port; And when I land on that blest shore, 1 JE HYMN 117. P. M ESUS, at thy command, And leave my native land, Where sin lulls all asleep; For thee I would the world resign, And sail to heaven with thee and thine. 2 Thou art my pilot-wise, My compass is thy word; My soul each storm defies, While I have such a Lord; I'll trust thy faithfulness and power, 3 Though rocks and quicksands deep, Yet Christ will safely keep, And guard me with his eye; My anchor, hope, will firm abide, And every boisterous storm outride 4 Whene'er becalm'd I lie, And storms forbear to toss; 5 By faith I see the land, The port of endless rest; 6 Come, Holy Ghost, and blow To heaven my destin'd place: There in full sail, my port I'll find, HYMN 118. P. M. THE 1HE people called Christians, how many things they tell, About the land of Canaan, where saints and angels dwell; But sin, that dreadful ocean, compasses them around, While its tide still divides them from Canaan's happy ground. 2 Thousands have been impatient to find their passage through, And with united vigour have tried what they could do; |