1 COME, let us use the grace divine,
And all, with one accord,
In a perpetual cov'nant join
Ourselves to Christ our Lord.
2 Give ourselves up through Jesus' pow'r,
His name to glorify,
And promise in this sacred hour,
For God to live and die.
3 The cov'nant we this moment make,
Be ever kept in mind;
May we no more our God forsake,
Or cast his word behind.
4 Thee, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Let all our hearts receive,
Present with thy celestial host
The peaceful answer give.
5 To each the cov'nant blood apply,
Which takes our sins away;
And register our names on high,
And keep us to that day!
155 Psalm cxix, 176. (L.M.)
1 LORD, we have wander'd from thy way,
Like foolish sheep have gone astray;
Our pleasant pastures we have left,
And of their guard our souls bereft.
2 Expos'd to want, expos'd to harm,
Far from our gentle Shepherd's arm;
Nor will these fatal wand'rings cease,
Till thou reveal the paths of peace.
3 O seek thy thoughtless servants, Lord,
Nor let us quite forget thy word;
Our erring souls do thou restore,
And keep us, that we stray no more.
1 LONG have we sat beneath the sound Of thy salvation, Lord;
But still, how weak our faith is found,
And knowledge of thy word!
2 Oft we frequent thy holy place,
And hear almost in vain :
How small a portion of thy grace
Do our false hearts retain!
3 Great God! thy sov'reign pow'r impart,
To give thy word success;
Write thy salvation on our heart,
And make us learn thy grace.
4 Show our forgetful feet the way
That leads to joys on high;
There knowledge grows without decay,
And love shall never die.
Psalm xc, 12. (c. M.)
1 THEE we adore, eternal name,
And humbly own to thee,
How feeble is our mortal frame,
What dying worms are we!
2 The year rolls round, and steals away
The breath that first it gave:
Whate'er we do, where'er we be,
We're trav'lling to the grave.
3 Great God! on what a slender thread
Hang everlasting things!
Th' eternal states of all the dead
Upon life's feeble strings."
4 Infinite joy, or endless woe,
Attends on ev'ry breath;
And yet how unconcern'd we go
Upon the brink of death!
5 Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense,
To walk this dang'rous road;
And if our souls are hurried hence,
May they be found with God.
Zephaniah iii, 12. (L. M.)
1 "POOR and afflicted," Lord, are thine, Among the great unfit to shine;
But though the world may think it strange, They would not with the world exchange.
2 "Poor and afflicted," 'tis their lot, They know it and they murmur not; "Twould ill become them to refuse The state their Master deign'd to choose. 3 "Poor and afflicted," yet they sing, For Jesus is their glorious King;
Through suff'rings perfect now he reigns, And shares in all their griefs and pains. 4 "Poor and afflicted," but ere long They join the bright celestial throng; Their suff'rings then will reach a close, And heav'n afford them sweet repose.
1 JESUS, I my cross have taken,
All to leave, and follow thee;
Naked, poor, despis'd, forsaken,
Thou, from hence, my all shalt be;
Perish ev'ry fond ambition,
All I've sought, or hop'd, or known, Yet how rich is my condition,
God and heav'n are still my own.
2 Let the world despise and leave me;
They have left my Saviour too;
Human hearts and looks deceive me,
Thou art not like them, untrue!
And whilst thou shalt smile upon me,
God of wisdom, love, and might,
Foes may hate, and friends disown me;
Show thy face, and all is bright.
3 Go, then, earthly fame and treasure,
Come disaster, scorn, and pain ;
In thy service, pain is pleasure,
With thy favour, loss is gain.
I have call'd thee Abba, Father;
I have set my heart on thee;
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather,
All must work for good to me.
4 Man may trouble and distress me,
"Twill but drive me to thy breast;
Life with trials hard may press me,
Heav'n will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh! 'tis not in grief to harm me,
While thy love is left to me;
Oh! 'twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmix'd with thee.
5 Soul, then, know thy full salvation;
Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care;
Joy to find, in ev'ry station,
Something still to do or bear;
Think what Spirit dwells within thee;
Think what Father's smiles are thine;
Think that Jesus died to win thee:
Child of heav'n, canst thou repine?
6 Haste thee on from grace to glory, Arm'd by faith, and wing'd by pray'r; Heav'n's eternal days before thee,
God's own hand shall guide thee there.
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