238. C. M. CowPER.

Obedience.

Noftrength of nature can fuffice

To the Lord aright;

And what she has, fhe mifapplies,
For want of clearer light.

Long time beneath the law I lay,

In bondage and distress; I toil'd the precept to obey,

But toil'd without fuccefs:

Then-to abftain from outward fin
Was more than I could do ;
Now-though I feel its pow'r within,
I feel deliv'rance too :

Then-all my fervile works were done
A righteousness to raise ;
Now-freely chosen in the Son,
I freely choose his ways:

"What shall I do," was then the word,
"That I might worthier grow?
"What fhall I render to the Lord ?"

Is my inquiry now.

To fee the law by Chrift fulfill'd,

To hear his pard'ning voice,

Changes a flave into a child,
And duty into choice.

GRACES OF THE HOLY SPIRIT.

SINCE

239. C. M. Conformity to Jefus.

INCE Chrift has borne my fin and curse,
And fuffer'd to atone,

Why am I then afflicted thus?

Why must I figh and groan ?

Why yet does rebel nature live?'
And why this war within ?
Why do the flesh and spirit strive?
Why do I yet feel fin?

What! muft temptations still prevail,
And Satan fift my heart;
Whilft inbred lufts my mind assail,
And cause me grievous smart?

What! muft my worldly aims be cross'd?
Denied my heart's desire ?
What! muft my character be lost,
And fenfual joys expire?

Is there no way to glorify

Chrift's death and honor'd name,

Unless unto myself I die,

And bear reproach and shame ?— Whene'er these thoughts oppress my heart, I'm ready then to faint;

But, when I view my Savior's smart,
That stops each fad complaint.

Be ftill, my foul; this is the path;
This is the Chriftian race;
Conform'd to Jefus in his death,
We only live by grace.

THE CHRISTIAN.
240. 8, 7. SWAIN, altered.
The Converfion of a Sinner.

On the brink of fiery ruin,

Justice, with a flaming fword

Was my guilty foul purfuing,
When I first beheld my Lord.
"Sinner," he exclaim'd, "I've lov'd thee
"With an everlasting love;
Juftice has in me approv'd thee,
"Thou fhalt dwell with me above.".

Sweet as angels' notes in heaven,
When to golden harps they found;
Is the voice of fins forgiven

To the foul by fatan bound:
Sweet as angels harps in glory

Was that heav'nly voice to me, When I faw my Lord, before me, Bleed and die to fet me free !— Now, dear Lord, again difcover To my foul, that thou art mine; Tell me, O thou heav'nly lover, That I am for ever thine.

JESUS, and didnt thon condescend

When veil'd in human Clay,

To heal the fick, the lame, the blind,

And didft thou pity wretched worms,
And make the leper whole?
O let thy pow'r and mercy heal
My fin-diseased foul!

Didft thou regard the beggar's cry,
And give the blind to fee?
Jefus, thou Son of David, hear,
Have mercy too on me!

And didft thou pity mortal woe,
And fight and health restore?
Pity, O Lord! and fave my foul,
Which needs thy mercy more!

And didft thou fave a trembling frame,
When finking in the wave?

I perish Lord! O fave my foul !
For thou alone canft fave.

242. C. M.

WATTS'S H.

The repenting Prodigal.

BEHOLD the wretch whofe luft and wine

his eftate,

He begs a fhare among the fwine,
To tafte the husks they eat!

"I die with hunger here, (he cries)
"I ftarve in foreign lands;

"My father's houfe has large fupplies, "And bounteous are his hands.

"I'll go, and with a mournful tongue "Fall down before his face;

"Father, I've done thy juftice wrong, Nor can deferve thy grace."

66

He said, and haften'd to his home,
To feek his father's love;
The father faw the rebel come,
And all his bowels move.

He ran and fell upon his neck,
Embrac'd and kifs'd his fon;
The rebel's heart with forrow brake,
For follies he had done.

"Take off his clothes of fhame and fin," (The father gives command)

"Drefs him in garments white and clean, With rings adorn his hand.

"A day of feafting I ordain,

"Let mirth and joy abound;

My fon was dead, and lives again;
"Was loft, and now is found."

SHEW

HEW pity, Lord, O Lord forgive,
Let a vile helpless rebel live;

Are not thy mercies large and free?
May not a finner truft in thee?

My crimes are great, but not surpass
The pow'r and glory of thy grace;
Great God, thy nature hath no bound,
So let thy pard'ning love be found.