With pleafing grief and mournful joy
My spirit then was fill'd, -
That I thould such a life destroy,
Yet live by him I kill'd,

204. C. M.

The Triumph of Faith; or, the Fiery Furnace. HAT mighty wonders Faith has done! O, who can e'er recount

WHA

The num'rous vict'ries it has won,

Or tell the vast amount?

Poffefs'd of this, without dismay,
The Hebrew Champions stood,
And dar'd a tyrant disobey,
Refifting unto blood.

His impious threat they difregard,
And all his fury brave,
Believing that the God they fear'd,
Was able them to fave.

Leaning on his almighty arm,

Who did fuch faith inspire,

They were preferv'd secure from harm,
Amidft confuming fire.

Like precious faith may we poffefs,

Nor need we ever fear,

Tho' call'd thro' floods or flames to pass,

If Chrift be with us there.

205. C. M. The contrite Heart. CowPER.

HE Lord will happiness divine

THE

On contrite hearts bestow;

Then tell me, gracious God, is mine
A contrite heart or no?

I hear, but seem to hear in vain,
Infenfible as fteel;

If aught is felt, 'tis only pain
To find I cannot feel.

I fometimes think myself inclin'd
To love thee, if I cou'd ;
But often feel another mind,
Averfe to all that's good.

My best defires are faint and few,
I fain would ftrive for mores

But when I cry, "My ftrength renew,'
Seem weaker than before.

The faints are comforted I know,
And love thy house of pray'r;
I fometimes go where others gn,
But find no comfort there.

O make this heart rejoice or ache;
Decide this doubt for me;
And if it be not broken, break,
And heal it, if it be.

2206. L. M.

WATTS'S P.

Humiliation.

LORD, we are vile, conceiv'd in fin

And born unholy and unclean :

Sprung from the man whofe guilty fall,
Corrupts the race, and taints us all.
Soon as we draw our infant-breath,
The feeds of fin grow up for death;
Thy law demands a perfect heart,
But we're defil'd in every part,

.

Behold, we fall before thy face,
Our only refuge is thy grace:

No outward forms can make us clean,
The leprofy lies deep within.

No bleeding bird, nor bleeding beaft,
Nor hyffop branch, nor sprinkling priest,
Nor running brook, nor flood, nor sea,
Can wash the difmal ftain away.

Jefus, our God! thy blood alone
Hath pow'r fufficient to atone ;
Thy blood can make us white as fnow;
No Jewish types could cleanse us so.

While guilt difturbs and breaks our peace,
Nor flesh nor foul hath rest or eafe;
Lord, let us hear thy pard'ning voice,
And make our down caft hearts rejoice.

WH

Hope encouraged.

WHY finks my weak desponding mind?
Why heaves my heart the anxious figh?

Can fov'reign goodness be unkind?

Am I not fafe fince God is nigh?

He holds all nature in his hand :

That gracious hand on which I live, Does life, and time, and death command, And has immortal joys to give.

'Tis he fupports this fainting frame; On him alone my hopes recline;

The wond'rous glories of his name,

D

How wide they (pread! how bright they shine!

Infinite wisdom! boundless pow'r!
Unchanging faithfulness and love!
Here let me truft, while I adore,

Nor from my refuge e'er remove.
My God, if thou art mine indeed.
Then I have all my heart can crave;
A prefent help in times of need;

Still kind to hear, and strong to fave.
Forgive my doubts, O gracious Lord,
And eafe the sorrows of my breast;
Speak to my heart the healing word,
That thou art mine-and I am bleft..

C

208. Sevens.

SENNICK.

Rejoicing in Hope.

HILDREN of the heav'nly King,
As ye journey, fweetly fing;

Sing our Savior's worthy praife,
Glorious in his works and ways.
We are trav'lling home to God
In the way the fathers trod,
They are happy now, and we
Soon their happiness thall fee...

Shout, ye
little flock, and bleft
We on Jefus' throne shall reft;
There our feat is now prepar'd,
There our kingdom and reward.

Fear not, brethren, joyful fland

On the borders of your land; zatament

Jefus Chrift, our Father's Son,egłe main Att

Bids us undifmay'd go on,

Lord! incline us now to go,
Gladly leaving all below;
Only thou our Leader be,
And we then will follow thee!

209. 7.6.

Μ

WHITEFIELD's Col.

Leaning on the Beloved.

Y moft indulgent Savior,

MI long thy love to find,

To triumph in thy favor,

And know thy Spirit's mind:
This grace to me be giv'n,
I nothing more request;
I afk no other heaven,

Than leaning on thy breaft.

The place of John 1 covet,
More than a feraph's throne;
To reft on my beloved,

And breathe my

final groan:

On thee alone relying,
To lose my fin and pain,
And, on thy bosom dying,
My life eternal gain.

Then I, with all in glory,
Shall thankfully relate,
Th' amazing, pleafing story,
Of Jefus' love fo great:
In this bleft contemplation,
May I for ever dwell;
An fhare fuch confolation,
As none below can tell.