BEHOLD, the heavenly potter takes
A lump of lifeless clay, and makes
A vessel by his power and skill,
Perfect in nature, free of will.
Alas! this vessel, made so grand,
Is quickly marred in the hand;"
Perverted, broken, and unclean;
Marr'd by the cruel hand of sin.
But, O, what love does God display! The vessel is not cast away; "Tis in his hand, and by him made "Another vessel," without aid.
He purifies the marred clay,
And takes sin's hideous form away;
A vessel in his likeness moulds,
Which in his hand he ever holds.
Fill'd with the incense of his love,
"Twill offer praise to him above;
It shall no more be marr'd by sin,
For heaven's pure gates shall shut it in.
The silver ore in nature's mine,
Is mingled with the dross;
It must be melted to refine,
But it sustains no loss.
Thus sin is mingled in my heart,
And makes the whole impure:
Dear Lord, perform the finer's part,
And help me to endure.
Melt me, and try me as thou wilt,
Only my dross remove;
Make me a vessel free from guilt,
And fill me with thy love.
With heavenly lustre make me shine,
Like those around thy throne;
Make it appear that I am thine,
Renewd by grace alone.
Employ me, while on earth I live,
To testify thy grace:
Then in thy heavenly temple give
lo me a vessel's place.
Eph. iii 16, 19, and John xvii. 14.
ETERNAL Spirit, let me know
The love of Christ to me;
Its conqu'ring quick'ning power bestow,
To set my spirit free.
I long to know its depth and height,
To scan its breadth and length;
Drink in its ocean of delight,
And triumph in its strength.
It is thine office to reveal
The Saviour's wond'rous love;
O, set upon my heart thy seal,
And bless me from above.
Thy quick'ning power to me impart; And be my constant guide; Remove my sorrows-warm my heart, And be thou glorified.
CCXXXIII.
1 John, iv. 16.
WHAT air is that which saints inhale,
And angels feel above?
Jehovah breathes the sacred gale;
"Tis his own essence love.
What holy bond will best unite
The Church of God in one,
And fill believers with delight?
'Tis love and that alone.
What gentle power constrains our soul
In wisdom's ways to move,
And all our enmity controuls?
Jehovah says 'tis love.
What fire is that which warms the heart, And can't destructive prove; 'But life and comfort does impart? 'Tis the sweet flame of love.
O! that this God-like grace may fill
My soul, while here below,
And guide me safe to Zion's hill,
Its noblest charms to know.
CCXXXIV.
Cant. vi. 13, and Gal. v. 17.
IN yonder Shulamite
What wonders do I see;→
The same which, day and night,
Disturb sweet peace in me;
Two armies meet, and each can boast, The conquest of a num rous host.
Troops of corruptions strong, Claim thousands as their prey, And o'er the captive throng, Their cruel sceptre sway; Till heavenly graces enter in, And take the prey from hell and sîn.
The conflict thus begun,
Will every day increase,
Till victory is won,-.
Till sin and sorrow cease;
Our inbred sins will give us pain,
But graces shall triumphant reign.
The struggle, though severe,
Cannot continue long;
Ye saints, dismiss your fear,
Begin the conqueror's song;
Our hosts of sin shall all be slain,
And Christ in us for ever reign.
|