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134. DREAD READ Jehovah, God of nations,

From Thy temple in the skies Hear Thy people's supplications,

Now for their deliverance rise. Lo! with deep contrition turning,

Humbly at Thy feet we bend;
Hear us, fasting, praying, mourning,

Hear us, spare us, and defend.
Though our sins, our hearts confounding,

Long and loud for vengeance call,
Thou hast mercy more abounding,

Jesus' blood can cleanse from all. Let that love veil our transgression,

Let that blood our guilt efface; Save Thy people from oppression,

Save from spoil Thy holy place,

A .men.

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136.

135. GOD of our life!

to Thee we call; Afflicted at Thy feet we fall ; When the great water-floods prevail, Leave not our trembling hearts to fail. Friend of the friendless and the faint, Where should we lodge our deep complaint? Where, but with Thee, whose open door Invites the helpless and the poor? Then hear, O Lord ! our humble cry, And bend on us Thy pitying eye. To Thee their prayer Thy people make; Hear us, for our Redeemer's sake!

THE
THE billows swell, the winds are high,

Clouds overcast the wintry sky;
Out of the depths to Thee we call ;
Our fears are great,, our strength is small.
O Lord, the pilot's part perform,
And guide and guard us through the storm,
Defend us from each threatening ill,
Control the waves, say, Peace, be still !
Amidst the roaring of the sea,
Our souls still hang their hope on Thee;
Thy constant love and faithful care
Support, and save us from despair.

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men.

. From the Fitzwilliam MSS., (see Hymn 80). Arranged by the Rev. W. H. Havergal.

CAESTER. C. M.

From RAVENSCROFT'S Psalter, 1621.

Harmonized by JAMES TURLE.

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137. GOD, that madest earth and sky, | Then mercy on our failings, Lord ! V The darkness and the day,

Our sinking faith renew, Give ear to this Thy family,

And when Thy sorrows visit us, And help us, when we pray!

O send Thy patience too !
The cross our Master bore for us,

For Him we fain would bear;
But mortal strength to weakness turns, * . A · men.
And courage to despair.

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MARTYRDOM. C. M.

Hugh Wilson..

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139.
THERE is a fountain fill'd with blood
1 Drawn from Emmanuel's veins ;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood,

Lose all their guilty stains.
Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood

Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransom'd church of God

Be saved, to sin no more.
Lord, I believe Thou hast prepared

(Unworthy though I be)
For me a blood-bought, free reward,

A golden harp for me!
'Tis strung and tuned for endless years,

And form d by power divine,
To sound in God the Father's ears

No other Name but Thine.

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