Hezekiah on his knees
Proud Assyria's host subdu'd:
And when smitten with disease,
Had his life by pray'r renew'd.
Peter, tho' confin'd and chain'd,
Pray'r prevail'd and brought him out;
When Elijah pray'd it rain'd,
After three long years of drought.
We can likewise witness bear,
That the Lord is still the same;
Tho' we fear'd he would not hear,
Suddenly deliverance came.
For the wonders he has wrought,
Let us now our praises give;
And by sweet experience taught,
Call upon him while we live.
361. A Dialogue.
Q. EXALTED high, at God's right hand,
Nearer the throne than cherubs stand,
With glory crown'd, in white array,
My wond'ring soul says, who are they?
A. These are the saints, belov'd of God,
Wash'd are their robes in Jesus' blood;
More spotless than the purest white,
They shine in uncreated light.
Q. Brighter than angels, lo, they shine,
Their glories great, and all divine;
Tell me their origin, and say
Their order what, and whence came they?
A. Thro' tribulation great they came, They bore the cross, and scorn'd the shame; Within the living temple blest,
In God they dwell, and on him rest.
Q. And does the cross thus prove
And shall they thus for ever reign,
Seated on sapphire thrones to praise
The wonders of redeeming grace?
A. Hunger they ne'er shall feel again,
Nor burning thirst shall they sustain;
To wells of living waters led,
By God, the Lamb, for ever fed.
Q. Unknown to mortal ears, they sing,
The secret glories of their King:
Tell me the subject of their lays,
And whence their loud exalted praise?
A. Jesus the Saviour is their theme;
They sing the wonders of his name;
To him ascribing pow'r and grace,
Dominion and eternal praise.
Amen, they cry to him alone
Who dares to fill his Father's throne;
They give him glory, and again
Repeat his praise, and say, Amen.
362. Unfruitfulness lamented.
LONG have we sat beneath the sound
Of thy salvation, Lord;
But still how weak our faith is found,
And knowledge of thy word!
Oft we frequent thy holy place,
And hear almost in vain:
How small a portion of thy grace
Do our false hearts retain !
How cold and feeble is our love!
How negligent our fear!
How low our hope of joys above!
How few affections there!
Great God! thy sov'reign pow'r impart,
To give thy word success;
Write thy salvation on our heart,
And make us learn thý grace.
Shew our forgetful feet the way
That leads to joys on high;
There knowledge grows without decay,
And love shall never die,
363. Weary Pilgrim.
LORD! what a wretched land is this,
That yields us no supply,
No cheering fruits, no wholesome trees,
Nor streams of living joy?
Yet the dear path to thine abode
Lies through this horrid land:
Lord! we would keep that heav'nly road,
And run at thy command.
Our journey is a thorny maze,
May we march upward still; Forget these troubles of the ways, And reach at Zion's hill.
See the kind angels at the gates
Inviting us to come!
There Jesus the forerunner waits,
To welcome trav'llers home!
Eternal glories to the King,
That brought us safely through; Our tongues shall never cease to sing, And endless praise renew.
364. Divine Worship.
LORD of the worlds above,
How pleasant and how fair
The dwellings of thy love,
Thy earthly temples are!
To thine abode
My heart aspires,
With warm desires
To see my God.
O happy souls that pray,
Where God appoints to hear!
O happy men that pay
Their constant service there!
They praise thee still;
And happy they
That love the way.
To Zion's hill.
They go from strength to strength,
Thro' this dark vale of tears,
'Till each arrives at length,
'Till each in heaven appears:
O glorious seat,
When God our King
Shall thither bring
Our willing feet!
To spend one sacred day,
Where God and saints abide,
Affords diviner joy,
Than thousand days beside:
Where God resorts
I love it more
To keep the door
Than shine in courts.
God is our sun and shield,
Our light and our defence;
With gifts his hands are fill'd,
We draw our blessings thence;
He shall bestow
On Jacob's race
Peculiar grace
And glory too.
The Lord his people loves;
His hand no good withholds
From those his heart approves,
From pure and pious souls:
Thrice happy he,
O God of hosts,
Whose Spirit trusts
Alone in thee.
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