Thus afraid to trust his grace,
Long time did I rebel;
Till, despairing of my case,

Down at his feet I fell:

Then my stubborn heart he broke,
And subdued me to his sway;

By a simple word he spoke,

66

Thy sins are done away."

LXI.

[The hateful dominion of sin—the delights of spiritual freedom and purity as secured by a saving belief in Jesus.]

HOLY Lord God! I love thy truth,

Nor dare thy least commandment slight;
Yet pierced by sin, the serpent's tooth,
I mourn the anguish of the bite.

But though the poison lurks within,
Hope bids me still with patience wait,
Till death shall set me free from sin,
Free from the only thing I hate.

Had I a throne above the rest,

Where angels and archangels dwell;

One sin, unslain, within my breast,

Would make that heaven as dark as hell.

The prisoner, sent to breathe fresh air,
And bless'd with liberty again,

Would mourn were he condemn'd to wear
One link of all his former chain.

But oh no foe invades the bliss,

When glory crowns the Christian's head;

One view of Jesus as he is,

Will strike all sin for ever dead.

LXII.

[Conversion through grace. We are saved, and that not of

ourselves.]

THE new-born child of gospel grace,

Like some fair tree when summer's nigh,

Beneath Emmanuel's shining face,

Lifts up his blooming branch on high.

No fears he feels, he sees no foes,
No conflict yet his faith employs,

Nor has he learnt to whom he owes
The strength and peace his soul enjoys.

But sin soon darts its cruel sting,

And comforts sinking day by day;
What seem'd his own, a self-fed spring,
Proves but a brook that glides away.

When Gideon arm'd his numerous host,

The Lord soon made his numbers less;
And said, "Lest Israel vainly boast, *
My arm procured me this success."

Thus will he bring our spirits down,

And draw our ebbing comforts low,
That saved by grace, but not our own,
We may not claim the praise we owe.

LXIII.

[True faith in its own deep quietness is content.

The loud professor often but a tinkling cymbal. The whole is doctrinal and beautiful; but we dislike both the sentiment and the witticism in the fourth verse.]

THE Lord receives his highest praise

From humble minds and hearts sincere ;

While all the loud professor says

Offends the righteous Judge's ear.

To talk as children of the day,
To mark the precept's holy light,
To wage the warfare, watch, and pray,
Shew who are pleasing in his sight.

Not words alone it cost the Lord,

To purchase pardon for his own;
Nor will a soul, by grace restored,

Return the Saviour words alone.

With golden bells, the priestly vest,*
And rich pomegranates border'd round,
The need of holiness express'd,

And call'd for fruit as well as sound.

Easy, indeed, it were to reach

A mansion in the courts above,
If swelling words and fluent speech
Might serve instead of faith and love.

But none shall gain the blissful place,
Or God's unclouded glory see,
Who talks of free and sovereign grace,
Unless that grace has made him free!

LXIV.

[Not all those who cry Lord, Lord, are true believers-the called many, but the chosen few.]

Too many, Lord, abuse thy grace,

In this licentious day;

And while they boast they see thy face,

They turn their own away.

Thy book displays a gracious light,

That can the blind restore ;
But these are dazzled by the sight,
And blinded still the more.

* Exod. xxviii. 33.

The pardon such presume upon,
They do not beg, but steal;

And when they plead it at thy throne,
Oh! where's the Spirit's seal?

Was it for this, ye lawless tribe,
The dear Redeemer bled ?
Is this the grace the saints imbibe
From Christ the living Head?

Ah, Lord, ye know thy chosen few
Are fed with heavenly fare;

But these, the wretched husks they chew,
Proclaim them what they are.

The liberty our hearts implore,

Is not to live in sin;

But still to wait at Wisdom's door,

Till Mercy calls us in.

LXV,

[Narrow is the way that leadeth unto life-vain pursuit of the

world.]

WHAT thousands never knew the road!

What thousands hate it when 'tis known!

None but the chosen tribes of God

Will seek or choose it for their own.

A thousand ways in ruin end,
One only leads to joys on high;
By that my willing steps ascend,
Pleased with a journey to the sky.

No more I ask or hope to find
Delight or happiness below;

Sorrow may well possess the mind

That feeds where thorns and thistles grow.

The joy that fades is not for me,
I seek immortal joys above;
There glory without end shall be,

The bright reward of faith and love.

Cleave to the world, ye sordid worms,
Contented lick your native dust;
But God shall fight, with all his storms,
Against the idol of your trust.

LXVI.

[Man's dependence is upon God alone-we are saved by grace through Jesus Christ.]

To keep the lamp alive,

With oil we fill the bowl;

'Tis water makes the willow thrive,
And grace that feeds the soul.

The Lord's unsparing hand
Supplies the living stream;

It is not at our own command,
But still derived from him.

Beware of Peter's word,*
Nor confidently say,

“I never will deny thee, Lord,”
But, grant I never may.

Man's wisdom is to seek

His strength in God alone;
And e'en an angel would be weak,
Who trusted in his own.

Retreat beneath his wings,

And in his grace confide;

This more exalts the King of kings,†
Than all your works beside.

In Jesus is our store,

Grace issues from his throne;

Whoever says,

"I want no more,"

Confesses he has none.

* Matt. xxvi. 33.

† John, vi. 29.