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Then shall my soul with rapture trace

The wonders of thy love; But the full glories of thy face

Are only known above.

294,

Conversion to God,

UNCLEAN! unclean ! and full of sin,
From first to last 0 Lord I've been!

Deceitful is my heart:
Guilt presses down my burden'd soul,
But Jesus can the waves controul,

And bid my fears depart. When first I heard his word of

grace, Ungratefully I hid my face,

Ungratefully delay'd : At length his voice inore pow'rful came, s 'Tis I,' he cry'd, • 1, still the same,

- Thou need'st not be afraid.' My heart was chang'd, in that same hour My soul confess'd his mighty pow'r,

Out flow'd the briny tear.
I listen'd still to hear his voice,
Again he said, " In me rejoice,

'Tis I, thou need'st not fear.'
• Unworthy of thy love,' I cry'd,
Freely I love,' he soon reply'd,

• On me thy faith be stay'd : « On me for ev'ry thing depend, 6 I'm. Jesus stili, the sinner's Friend, « Thou need'st not be afraid,'

295. Christian Triumplt. WAEN I can read my title clear

To mansions in the skies, I bid farewel to ev'ry fear,

And wipe my weepiog eyes. Should earth against my soul engage,

And hellish darts be hurl'd,
Then I can smile at Satan's rage,

And face a frowning world.
Let cares like a wild deluge come,

And storms of sorrow fall,
May I but safely reach my hope,

My God, my heav'n, my all.
There shall I bathe my weary soul

In seas of heav'nly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll

Across my peaceful breast.

296 Crucified to the World. WHEN I survey the wondrous cross

On which the Prince of Glory dy'd, My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride. Forbid it Lord that I should boast, Save in the Death of Christ my

God; All the vain things that charm me most,

I sacrifice them to his blood.
See from his head, his hands, his feet,

Sorrow and love flow mingled down;

Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so bright a crown! Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

297. The Christian, Why is my heart so far from thee,

My God iny chief delight?
Why are my thoughts no more by day

With thee, no more by night?
Why should my foolish passions rove?

Where can such sweetness be
As I have tasted in thy love,

As I have found in thee.
When my forgetful soul renews

The favour of thy_grace,
My heart presumes I cannot lose

The relish all my days.
But ere, one fleeting hour is pass'd.

The flatt'ring world employs
Some sensual bait to seize my taste,

And to pollute my joys, Trifles of nature or of art,

With fair deceitful charms, Intrude into my thoughtless heart,

And thrust me from thy arms. Then I repent, and vex my soul That I should leave thee so:

Where will those wild affections roll,

And let a Saviour go?
Wretch that I am to wander thus

In chase of false delight!
Let me be fasten'd to the cross,

Rather than lose thy sight.
Make haste, my days, to reach the goal,

And bring my heart to rest
On the dear centre of my soul,

My God, my Saviour's breast.

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298. The Christian.
What sinners value, I resign,
Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine :
I shall behold thy blissful face,
And stand complete in righteousness.
This life's a dream, an empty show;
But the bright world to which I go
Hath joys substantial and sincere;
When shall I wake, and find me there?
O glorious hour! O blest abode !
I shall be near, and like my God!
And flesh and sin no more controul
The sacred pleasures of the soul.
My flesh shall slumber in the ground
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound,
Then burst the chains with sweet surprise,
And in my Saviour's image rise.

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299. Conversion.

When with my mind devoutly prest,
Dear Saviour, my revolving breast

Would past offences trace,
Trembling I make the black review,
Yet pleas'd behold, admiring too,

The pow'r of changing grace!
This tongue with blasphemies defild,
These feet to erring paths beguil'd,

In heav'nly league agree?
Who could believe such lips could praise,
Or think my dark and winding ways

Should ever lead to thee!
These eyes, that once abus'd their sight,
Now lift to thee their wat'ry light,

And weep a silent flood;
These hands ascend in ceaseless pray’r,
O wash away the stains they wear,

In pure redeeming blood.
These ears that pleas'd could entertain
The midnight oath, the lustful strain,

When round the festal board;
Now deaf to all th' enchanting noise,
Avoid the throng, detest the joys,

And press to hear thy word.
Thus art thou serv'd in ev'ry part,
O wouldst thou more transform my heart

This drossy thing refine, That grace might nature's strength controul,

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