3 Jesus, seek thy wand'ring sheep,
Make me restless to return;
Bid me look on thee and weep,
Bitterly as Peter mourn;
Till I say, by grace restor'd,
"Now thou know'st I love thee, Lord."
4 Might I in thy sight appear,
As the publican distrest,
Stand, not daring to draw near,
Smite on my unworthy breast,
Groan the sinner's only plea,
"God be merciful to me!"
5 O remember me for good,
Passing through the mortal vale!
Show me the atoning blood,
When my strength and spirit fail:
Give my gasping soul to see
Jesus crucified for me!
Hymn 51. S. M.
O Lord, I am oppressed. Isa. xxxviii. 14.
THAT I could repent
With all my idols part;
And to thy gracious eye present
An humble contrite heart!
A heart with grief opprest,
For having griev'd my God:
troubled heart, that cannot rest,
Tili sprinkled with thy blood!
3 Jesus, on me bestow
The penitent desire;
With true sincerity of wo
My aching breast inspire.
With soft'ning pity look,
And melt my hardness down;
Strike with thy love's resistless stroke,
And break this heart of stone!
Hymn 52. C. M.
And trembleth at my word. Isa. Ixvi. 2. FOR that tenderness of heart, Which bows before the Lord, Acknowledging how just thou art, And trembles at thy word! 2 O for those humble, contrite tears, Which from repentance flow; That consciousness of guilt, which fears The long-suspended blow.
3 Saviour, to me in pity give
The sensible distress:
The pledge thou wilt at last receive,
And bid me die in peace:
4 Wilt from the dreadful day remove,
Before the evil come;
My spirit hide with saints above,
My body in the tomb.
Hymn 53. S. M.
Hear ye the rod, and who hath appointed it.
O that I could but stand in fear
Of thy afflicting rod!
If mercy cannot draw,
Thou, by thy threat'nings move:
And keep an abject soul in awe,
That will not yield to love.
3 Show me the naked sword
Impending o'er my head:
O let me tremble at thy word!
And to my ways take heed.
4 With sacred horror fly
From every sinful snare;
Nor ever in my Judge's eye,
My Judge's anger dare.
*5 Thou great tremendous God!
The conscious awe impart,
The grace be now on me bestow'd,
The tender fleshly heart.
For Jesu's sake alone
The stony heart remove,
And melt at last, O melt me down,
Into the mould of love.
Hymn 54. C. M.
This wisdom descendeth not from above, but is earthly, sensual, devilish. James iii. 15.
ENSLAV'D to sense, to pleasure prone,
Fond of created good;
Father, our helplessness we own,
And trembling taste our food.
2 Trembling we taste; for ah! no more
To thee the creatures lead:
Chang'd, they exert a baneful power,
And poison while they feed.
3 Curs'd for the sake of wretched man,
They now engross him whole:
With pleasing force on earth detain,
And sensualize the soul.
4 Grov'ling on earth we still must lie,
Till Christ the curse repeal:
Till Christ, descending from on high,
Infected nature heal.
5 Come then, our heavenly Adam, come,
Thy healing influence give;
Hallow our food, reverse our doom,
And bid us eat and live.
6 The bondage of corruption break;
For this our spirits groan:
Thy only will we fain would seek,
Ŏ save us from our own.
7 Turn the full stream of nature's tide: Let all our actions tend
To thee their source: thy love the guide,
Thy glory be the end.
8 Earth then a scale to heaven shall be,
Sense shall point out the road;
The creatures all shall lead to thee,
And all we taste be God.
Hymn 55. P. M.
Wretched and miserable. Rev. iii. 17.
WRETCHED, helpless, and distrest,
Ah! whither shall I fly?
Ever gasping after rest,
I cannot find it nigh:
Naked, sick, and poor, and blind,
Fast bound in sin and misery,
Friend of sinners, let me find
My help, my all in thee!
2 Naked of thine image, Lord,
Forsaken, and alone,
Unrenew'd and unrestor'd,
I cannot put thee on:
Over me thy mantle spread,
Send down thy likeness from above, Let thy goodness be display'd,
And wrap me in thy love!
3 Poor, alas! thou know'st I am,
And would be poorer still;
See my nakedness and shame,
And all my vileness feel:
No good thing in me resides,
My soul is all an empty void,
Till thy Spirit here abides,
And I am fill'd with God.
4 Jesus full of truth and grace,
In thee is all I want;
Be the wanderer's resting-place,
A cordial to the faint;
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