'Tis thine to change the heart,
Tilluminate the foul;

To pour fresh life on ev'ry part,
And new create the whole.-
If thou, celestial Dove,
Thy influence withdraw,
What eafy victims foon we fall
To terror, fin, and law!

Dwell, therefore, in our hearts;
Our minds from bondage free:
Then fhall we know, and praife, and love
The Father, Son, and Thee.

199. C. M.

COM

WATTS, altered.

Another.

NOME, Holy Spirit, heav'nly Dove,
With all thy quick'ning pow'rs,

Kindle a flame of facred love

In thefe cold hearts of ours.

Look, how on earth we grov'ling lie,
Fond of its trifling toys :

Nor can we lift our fouls on high
To reach fublimer joys.

In vain we tune our formal fongs,
In vain we ftrive to rife ;

Hofannas languish on our tongues,
And our devotion dies.

Great God, and shall we ever live,
At this poor dying rate?
Our love fo cold, fo faint to thee,
And thine to us fo great?

Come, Holy Spirit, heav'nly Dove,
With all thy quick'ning pow'rs:
Come, thed abroad a Savior's love,
And that fhall kindle ours.

GOD, what filken cords are thine!
How foft, and yet how ftrong!

While pow'r, and truth, and love, combine
To draw our fouls along,

Thou faw'ft us crush'd beneath the yoke
Of fatan and of fin:

Thy hand the iron bondage broke
Our worthless hearts to win.

The guilt of twice ten thousand fins
One moment takes away;
And grace, when firft the war begins,
Secures the crowning day.

Comfort, thro' all this vale of tears,
In rich profufion flows,

And glory of unnumber'd years
Eternity beftows.

Drawn by fuch cords, we onward move,

'Till round thy throne we meet ; And, captives in the chains of love, Embrace our conqu'ror's feet.

201. C. M. STEELE.

Regeneration.

H Unconcious of its load!

TOW helpless guilty nature lies,

The heart, unchang'd, can never rife
To happiness and God.

The will perverfe, the paffions blind,
In paths of ruin stray;
Reafon, debas'd, can never find
The safe, the narrow way.

Can ought beneath a pow'r divine
The ftubborn will fubdue?
'Tis thine, eternal fpirit, thine
To form the heart anew.

"Tis thine the paffions to recall,
And upward bid them rise;
And make the scales of error fall
From reafon's darken'd eyes.

To chafe the fhades of death away,
And bid the finner live!

A beam of heav'n, a vital ray,
'Tis thine alone to give.

O change thefe wretched hearts of ours, And give them life divine!

Then fhall our paffions and our pow'rs, Almighty Lord, be thine.

202. C. M. WATTS H.

HOW

Faith in Chrift.

OW fad our state by nature is !
Our fin how deep it ftains!

And fatan binds our captive fouls
Faft in his flavish chains.

But there's a voice of fov'reign grace,
Sounds from the facred word;
Ho! ye defpairing finners, come,
And truft upon the Lord.

O may we hear th' Almighty call,
And run to this relief!

We would believe thy promise, Lord,
O help our unbelief!•

To the bleft fountain of thy blood,
Teach us, O Lord, 'to fly;
There may we wafh our spotted fouls
From crimes of deepest dye!

Stretch out thine arm, victorious King,
Our reigning fins fubdue;
Drive the old dragon from his seat,
With his infernal crew.

Poor, guilty, weak and helpless worms,
On thy kind arm we fall;

Be thou our ftrength and righteoufuefs, Our Jefus, and our all.

"TW

203. C. M. Moped Brown,

A Faith's View of Chrift.

WAS in an hour when wrath prevail'd,
And pow'rs of darkness rose;

A fudden groan my ear affail'd,
Expreffing dying woes.

I turn'd; then wonder'd as I ftood
At what mine eyes furvey'd !
A Prince, expiring in his blood,
On a vile cross display'd!

I knew him, tho' his thorny crown
Dimm'd his majestic air:
Then I demanded, with a frown,
"What traitor fix'd him there?"

No answer to my voice I heard,
Nor could difcern a foe;
When lo! his fainting head he rear'd,
And spake in words of woe:

"Cease wretch, from vain inquiry rest,
166 My cruel murd'rer see ;

Thy fins have rent my bleeding breast,
"And nail'd me to the tree.”

Trembling I fell, and kifs'd his wounds,
And wip'd the gore away;

I faw him smooth his killing frowns,
And heard him gently say:

"Rife, let thy heart its grief compofe,
"Thy Savior can forgive;

"He feels the burden of thy woes, 06 And dies to bid thee live."

M