5 It pineth after thee, And yet from thee will start; Reclaim thy roving child at last, And fix my heart and bind it fast. I would be near thy feet, Or at thy bleeding side; Trace all the wonders of thy death, And sing thy love in every breath. 674. 148th The Power is of God. How sinners vaunt of power And count the fulsome store 2 But God must work the will 3 His own good pleasure, not our worth, Disciples who are taught, Have no presumptuous thought, Work with the means, and for this end, 4 What poor returns I make to thee And must I ever smart, 673. No Rest but Christ. 148th. 2 WHEN Jesus' gracious hand Has touch'd our eyes and ears, The wilderness appears!. No healing balm springs from its dust, No cooling stream to quench the thirst! Yet long I vainly sought A resting-place below, And that sweet land forgot I hunger now for heavenly food, And my poor heart cries out for God. 3 And with me sup stay; Lord, enter in my breast, and Nor prove a hasty guest, Upon my bosom fix thy throne, 4 My sorrow thou canst see, 5 It pineth after thee, And yet from thee will start; Reclaim thy roving child at last, And fix my heart and bind it fast. I would be near thy feet, Or at thy bleeding side; Feel how thy heart does beat, Trace all the wonders of thy death, 674. 148th 2 3 The Power is of God. How sinners vaunt of power And count the fulsome store But God must work the will power to run the race; His own good pleasure, not our worth, Disciples who are taught, Have no presumptuous thought, Work with the means, and for this end, 6 The souls redeem'd by precious blood 677. Prayer Meeting O M. BEHOLD, dear Lord, we come again, We feel our leanness, and our wants; 2 Thou know'st, dear Lord, for what we're come Each heart is known to thee; Lord, give our burden'd spirits rest 3 We've nothing of our own to plead; And who can tell but God may bless, 4 While one is pleading with our God, 5 Then shall we sing of sov'reign grace, 6 For this we come, for this we plead; Until thou give this blessing, Lord, 5 Come boldly to the throne of grace, And those he kills he makes alive; 6 Poor bankrupt souls, who feel and know The hell of sin within, Come boldly to the throne of grace; 676. you in. C. M. The Doubting Soul's Soliloquy. 2 But ah! I feel no love at all, 3 But whither can I go to lodge 4 I find my striving all in vain, My heart is hard; I'm such a wretchCan neither love nor fear. 5 I ask my soul this question then, For here I would begin: O do I feel a want of Christ To save me from my sin? |