Supported by the Mafter's word,
The adverfe pow's they scarn to fear;
Gladly their happy work pursue:
The labour of their hands is feen,
Their hands the face of earth renew,
Some spots at leaft are lively green,
Where'er the faithful workers turn,
The steps of industry appear;
They labour all dry wood to burn,
They labour with inceffant care
The fruits of Sodom to tread down,
To root up each accurfed feed
By Satan and his fpirits fown,
And plant the Gospel in its ftead.
To dig the ground they thus beftow
Their lives; from ev'ry foften'd clod
They gather out the ftones, and fow
Th' immortal feed the word of God.
They water it with tears and pray'rs ;
They long for the returning word,
Happy if all their pains and cares
Can bring forth fruit to please their Lord,
Jefus their work delighted fees,
Their indufry vouchfafes to crown;
He kindly gives the wish'd increase,
And fends the promis'd bleffing down:
The fap of life, the 'Spirit's pow'rs,
He rains inceffant from above;
He all his gracious fulness show'rs
To perfect their great work of love.
CI. Faithfulness in the work of God. L. M.
HALL I for fear of finful man,
Thy Spirit's courfe in me reftrain?
Orundifmay'd, in deed and word
Be a true witness to my Lord?
Aw'd by a mortal's frown, shall I
Conceal the word of God most high?
How then before Thee fhall I dare
To ftand, or how thy anger bear?
Shall I to footh th' unholy throng,
Soften thy truths, and fmooth my tongue?
To gain earth's gilded toys, or flee
The crofs endur'd, my God, by Thee!
The love of Chrift does me constrain
To feek the wand'ring fouls of men;
With cries, intreaties, tears, to fave,
To fnatch them from the gaping grave,
For this let men revile my name;
No crofs I fhun, I fear no fhame:
All hail, reproach, and welcome pain!
Only thy terrors, Lord, reftrain.
My life, my blood I here prefent,
If for thy truth they may be spent:
Fulfil thy fov'reign counfel, Lord!
Thy will be done, thy name ador'd!
Give me thy ftrength, O God of pow'r! Then let winds blow, or thunders roar, Thy faithful witnefs will I be:
'Tis fix'd! I can do all through Thee,
CII, The name of Jefus. C. M.
OW fweet the name of Jefus founds
It fooths his forrows, heals his wounds, And drives away his fear.
It makes the wounded fpirit whole,
And calms the troubled breaft;
'Tis manna to the hungry foul,
And to the weary reft.
Dear name! the rock on which I build,
My fhield and hiding-place;
My never failing treas'ry, fili'd
With boundlefs ftores of grace.
Jefus! my Shepherd, Hufband, Friend,
My Prophet, Prieft, and King;
My Lord, my life, my way, my end,
Accept the praife I bring.
Weak is the effort of my heart,
And cold my warmeft thought;
But when I fee Thee as Thou art,
I'll praise Thee as I ought.
Till then I would thy love proclaim
With ev'ry fleeting breath;
And may the mufic of thy name
Refresh my foul in death.
ORD, thine image Thou haft lent me,
In thy never-fading love;
When I fell, yet Thou haft fent me
Full redemption from above:
Sacred love, I long to be
Thine to all eternity.
Love! to blifs Thou haft ordained
Me, e'er I began to be;
God of love, Thou'ft not difdained
To become a man like me:
Love almighty and divine,
I would be for ever Thine.
Love! who haft for me endured
All the pains of death and hell; Love! whofe fuff'rings have procured More for me than tongue can tell; Sacred love, I long to be
Thine to all eternity..
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