HYMN 190.

ANSWER.

EE how rude winter's icy hand
Has ftripp'd the trees, and feal'd the
ground

But fpring fhall foon his rage withstand,
And spread new beauties all around.

2 My foul a fharper winter mourns ;
Barren and lifeless I remain;
When will the gentle spring return,
And bid my graces grow again!

3 JESUS, my glorious fun, arife,
"Tis thine the frozen heart to move;
O! hufh these storms, and clear my
And let me feel thy vital love..

4 Dear LORD, regard my feeble cry;
I faint and droop till thou appear:
Wilt thou permit thy plant to die?
Muft it be winter all the year?

fkies,

5 Be ftill, my foul, and wait his hour,
With humble pray'r, and patient faith;
Till he reveals his gracious pow'r,
Repofe on what his promife faith.

6 He, by whofe all-cominanding words, Seafons their changing courfe maintain; In ev'ry change a pledge affords,

That none fhall feek his face in vain.
HYMN

I

H

ow happy is the chriftian's ftate f
His fins are all forgiv'n

A chearing ray confirms the grace,
And lifts his hopes to heav'n.

2 Tho' in the rugged path of life
He heaves the penfive figh;
Yet, trufting in his God, he finds
Deliv'ring grace is nigh.

3 If, to prevent his wand'ring steps;
He feels the chaft'ning rod;

The gentle ftroke fhall bring him back
To this forgiving GGD.

4 And when the welcome meffage comes
To call his foul away;
His foul in raptures, fhall afcend
To everlasting day.

HYMN 192. BACKSLIDERS.

12

D Refume your former poft

ESERTERS, to the camp return,

Bewail your crimes, your baleness mourn,
For yet ye are not loft.

K

2 Yours is a fad, a dangerous cafe; Be humble and repent:

3

4

Mercy, you'll find, tho' e'er fo bafe,
If truly penitent.

Sinners are fav'd by JESU's blood,

How vile foe'er they be;

Eternal life's the gift of God;
And gifts are always free.

'Tis not by wor

'Tis not by works of righteousness
Which any man has done;

But God has fent the Sun to blefs:
Return and kifs the Son,

HYMN 193.

SAFETY UNDER

UNDER THE CROSS.

TERE at thy crofs, my dying God,

Hlay my foul beneath thy love,

Beneath the droppings of thy blood,
JESUS, nor fhall it e'er remove.
2 Not all the tyrants think or fay,
With rage and lightning in their eyes,
Nor hell fhall fright my heart away,
Shou'd hell, with all its legions rife.

Shou'd worlds confpire to drive me hence,
Movelefs and firm this heart thou'd lie;
Refolv'd (for that's my last defence)
If I must perish, there to die,

fear;

4 But fpack, my LORD, and calm my
Am I not fate beneath thy fhade?
Thy vengeance will not ftrike me here,
Nor Satan dares my foul invade.

Yes; I'm fecure beneath thy blood
And all my foes fhall lofe their aim:
Hofanna to my dying Gon,
And my best honours to his name.

HY M N 194

PUBLIC THANKS FOR PRIVATE DELIVERANCE.

WH

HAT fhall I render, O my God,
For all thy kindness fhown!

My feet fhall vifit thine abode,
My Songs adrefs thy throne.

2 Among the faints that fill thy houfe,
My offr'ings fhall be paid,
*There fhall my zeal perform the vows
My foul in anguifh made.

3.

How much is mercy thy deligh",

Thou ever bleffed Gop!

How dear thy fervants in thy fight
How precious is their blood !

4 How happy all thy fervants are!

How great

great thy grace to me!

My life, which thou haft made thy care,
LORD, I devote to thee.

HYMN 195

PRAISE TO GOD THRO' THE WHOLL

OF OUR EXISTENCE.

OD of my life, thro all my days,
My greateful pow'rs shall found thy
praife; ond yr angsty &

The fong fhall 'wake with op'ning light,
And warble to night.
the filen

night.

2 When anxious cares wou'd break my reft, And grief wou'd tear my throbbing breaft, Thy tuneful praise I'll raise on high And check the murmur, and the figh.

3. When death o'er nature fhall prevail, And all the pow'rs of language fail; Joy thro' my fwimming eyes fhall break, And mean the thanks I cannot fpeak.

4 But Owhen that last conflict's o'er, And I am chain'd to flesh no more, With what glad accents fhail I rife, To join the mufic of the fkies!