HYMN 190. ANSWER. EE how rude winter's icy hand But fpring fhall foon his rage withstand, 2 My foul a fharper winter mourns ; 3 JESUS, my glorious fun, arife, 4 Dear LORD, regard my feeble cry; fkies, 5 Be ftill, my foul, and wait his hour, 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. I H ow happy is the chriftian's ftate f A chearing ray confirms the grace, 2 Tho' in the rugged path of life 3 If, to prevent his wand'ring steps; The gentle ftroke fhall bring him back 4 And when the welcome meffage comes HYMN 192. BACKSLIDERS. 12 D Refume your former poft ESERTERS, to the camp return, Bewail your crimes, your baleness mourn, K 2 Yours is a fad, a dangerous cafe; Be humble and repent: 3 4 Mercy, you'll find, tho' e'er fo bafe, Sinners are fav'd by JESU's blood, How vile foe'er they be; Eternal life's the gift of God; 'Tis not by wor 'Tis not by works of righteousness But God has fent the Sun to blefs: 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, Shou'd worlds confpire to drive me hence, fear; 4 But fpack, my LORD, and calm my Yes; I'm fecure beneath thy blood HY M N 194 PUBLIC THANKS FOR PRIVATE DELIVERANCE. WH HAT fhall I render, O my God, My feet fhall vifit thine abode, 2 Among the faints that fill thy houfe, 3. How much is mercy thy deligh", Thou ever bleffed Gop! How dear thy fervants in thy fight 4 How happy all thy fervants are! How great great thy grace to me! My life, which thou haft made thy care, HYMN 195 PRAISE TO GOD THRO' THE WHOLL OF OUR EXISTENCE. OD of my life, thro all my days, The fong fhall 'wake with op'ning light, 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! |