OW fhall I dare approach the Lord, HOW Or how procure his kind regard, Shall altars flame, and victims bleed, And fpicy fumes afcend? Will these my earnest with fucceed, Should thousand rams in flames expire, With trembling hands and bleeding heart Ah! no, my foul, 'twere fruitless all, No fatlings, from the field nor ftall, None, but a dying Savior's blood, This plead, my foul, before thy God,: 91. L. M. STEELE. S Life and Safety in Chrift alone. HOU only Sov'reign of my heart, T My Refuge, my Almighty Friend And can my foul from thee depart, af Whither, ah! whither fall I go, i Eternal life thy words impart, On thefe my fainting fpirit lives Here sweeter comforts cheer my heart,H Than all the round of nature gives. Let earth's alluring joys combine, While thou art near, în vain they call; One fmile, one blifsful smile of thine, I' My deareft Lord, outweighs them all. Thy name my inmoft pow'rs adore T Depart from thee-'tis death,tis more! 'Tis endlefs ruin, deep defpair! da Low at thy feet my foul would lie, A WAKE, my heart, arise my tongue, In God, the life of all my joys, Aloud will I rejoice. 'Tis he adorn'd my naked foul, And made falvation mine; Upon a poor polluted worm He makes his graces shine. And left the shadow of a spot, How far the heavenly robe exceeds, The Spirit wrought my faith and love, Strangely, my foul, art thou array'd 93. C. M. TOPLADY'S Col: JEST Sanctification. TESUS, my Life, thyfelf apply, My vile affections crucify, Conform me to thy death." Conqu'ror of hell, and earth, and fin, More of thy life I wish to have, Musi And thirst for fresh fupplies: Bury me, Savior, in thy grave, Rule in me, Lord; thy foes controul, O fave me from the pow'r of fin, Thine Image ftamp, and make me fhine My inward holiness thou art, With all thy, fulness fill my heart, 94. S. M. MORTON'S Col...s HO' earth and fatan rage, Chrift doth their pow'r controul; His wifdom, love and truth engage Protection for the foul. Believers ne'er fhall yield, 95. S. M. WATTS'S H. O God, the Only Wire, Let all the faints below the Ikies 'Tis his almighty love, His counfel and his care,. Preferves us fafe from, fin and death, And ev'ry hurtful fnare. He will prefent his faints' Unblemith'd and complete, Before the glory of his face, With joys divinely great. |