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,
And see its purple tide;

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
A ruin'd soul to save,

And count the fulsome store
Of worth they seem to have,
And by such visionary props
Build up and bolster sandy hopes!

2 But God must work the will
And power to run the race;
And both through mercy still,
A work of freest grace;

3

His own good pleasure, not our worth,
Brings all the will and power forth.

Disciples who are taught,
Their helplessness to feel,

Have no presumptuous thought,
But work with care and skill;

Work with the means, and for this end,
That God the will and power may send.

4

What poor returns I make to thee
For all the mercy shown to me!

And must I ever smart,
A child of sorrows here?
Yet, Lord, be near my heart,
To soothe each rising tear;
Then at thy bleeding cross I'll stay,
And sweetly weep my life away.

673.

No Rest but Christ.

148th.

2

WHEN Jesus' gracious hand

Has touch'd our eyes and ears,
Oh! what a dreary land

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
Where living waters flow;

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,
Who tarries but a day;

Upon my bosom fix thy throne,
And pull each fancy idol down.

4 My sorrow thou canst see,
For thou dost read my heart;

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,
And see its purple tide;

Trace all the wonders of thy death,
And sing thy love in every breath.

674.

148th

2

3

The Power is of God.

How sinners vaunt of power
A ruin'd soul to save,

And count the fulsome store
Of worth they seem to have,
And by such visionary props
Build up and bolster sandy hopes!

But God must work the will
And

power to run the race;
And both through mercy still,
A work of freest grace;

His own good pleasure, not our worth,
Brings all the will and power forth.

Disciples who are taught,
Their helplessness to feel,

Have no presumptuous thought,
But work with care and skill;

Work with the means, and for this end,
That God the will and power may send.

6 The souls redeem'd by precious blood
Are taught this lesson well;
"Tis not of him that wills or runs,
But Christ who saves from hell.

677.

Prayer Meeting

O M.

BEHOLD, dear Lord, we come again,
To supplicate thy grace;

We feel our leanness, and our wants;
We want to see thy face.

2 Thou know'st, dear Lord, for what we're come Each heart is known to thee;

Lord, give our burden'd spirits rest
And bid us all go free.

3 We've nothing of our own to plead;
We come just as we are;

And who can tell but God may bless,
And drive away our fear.

4 While one is pleading with our God,
May each one wrestle too;
And may we feel the blessing come,
And cheer us ere we go.

5 Then shall we sing of sov'reign grace,
And feel its power within;
And glory in our surety, Christ,
Who bore our curse and sin.

6 For this we come, for this we plead;
In spite of every foe;

Until thou give this blessing, Lord,
We would not let thee go.

5 Come boldly to the throne of grace,
For Jesus fills the throne;

And those he kills he makes alive;
He hears the sigh or groan.

6 Poor bankrupt souls, who feel and know The hell of sin within,

Come boldly to the throne of grace;
The Lord will take

676.

you

in.

C. M.

The Doubting Soul's Soliloquy.
O COULD I lift this heart of mine
Above these creature things!-
I'd fly, and leave this world below,
As though on eagles' wings.

2 But ah! I feel no love at all,
Can neither praise nor pray;
O would the Lord but shine again,
And turn this night to day!

3 But whither can I go to lodge
My sorrow and complaint?
Unless the Lord is pleased to shine,
I mope, I grieve, I faint.

4 I find my striving all in vain,
Unless my Lord is near;

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?