3 May love divine our feelings sway,
And all our actions sweetly guide;
And sin and guilt be done away,

Thro' Him that groan'd; and bled and died.
4 Awake, our souls, in sweetest lays,
Unite our noblest powers to sing,
And hearts and voices join to raise
The praise of Christ our sovereign King.

295. C. M. W. & B.

Asking for the Divine Presence. Psalm cxl. 13. COME, thou desire of all thy saints,

Our humble strains

While, with our praises and complaints,
Low at thy feet we bend.

2 When we thy wondrous glories hear,
And all thy sufferings trace,
What sweetly awful scenes appear!
What rich unbounded grace!

3 How should our songs, like those above, With warm devotion rise!

How should our souls, on wings of love,
Mount upward to the skies!

4 Come, Lord, thy love alone can raise
In us the heavenly flame;
Then shall our lips resound thy praise;
Our hearts adore thy name.

5 Dear Saviour, let thy glory shine,
And fill thy dwellings here,
Till life, and love, and joy divine,
A heaven on earth appear.

296. C. M. Doddridge. Watching for soul's. Heb. xiii. 17

L

ET Zion's watchmen all awake, And take the alarm they give; Now let them, from the mouth of God, Their awful charge receive.

2 'Tis not a cause of small import,
The pastor's care demands;

But what might fill an angel's heart,
And fill'd a Saviour's hands.

3 They watch for souls, for which the Lord Did heavenly bliss forego;

For souls which must for ever live,
In boundless bliss or woe.

4 All to the great tribunal haste,
Th' account to render there;
And shouldst thou strictly mark our faults,
Lord, where should we appear?

5 May they that Jesus whom they preach, Their own Redeemer see;

And watch thou daily o'er their souls,
That they may watch for thee.

297. C. M. Altered. Conclusion of Sabbath worship.

WELCOME and precious to my soul,

Are

But what a glorious rest remains
To be enjoyed above!

2 There, free from languor, pain, and sin,
Our weary souls shall rest,

With Jesus our exalted King,
And be for ever blest.

3 On these delightful, precious days,
My Lord I've often seen;
And feasting on his gracious word,
In raptures I have been.

1 O if my soul, when death appears,
In this sweet frame be found,-
I'll clasp my Saviour in my arms,
And leave this earthly ground.

298. C. M. Cowper.

The Mysteries of Providence. John xiii. 7.

way,

a

His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm.

2 Deep in unfathomable mines Of never-failing skill,

He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sovereign will.

3 Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

4 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face.

5 His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

6 Blind unbelief is sure to err,

And scan his work in vain ; God is his own interpreter, And he will make it plain.

299. C. M. Hart.
The solemnities of death.

AIN men, your fond pursuits forbear!
Repent! your is nigh:
Death, at the farthest, can't be far;
O! think before you die.

2 Reflect! you've each a soul to save;
Your sins, how high they mount!
What are your hopes beyond the grave?
How stands that dark account?

3 Death enters, and there's no defence;
His time there's none can tell;
He'll in a moment call you hence,
To heaven, or else to hell.

4 Your flesh, perhaps your chiefest care,
Shall crawling worms consume;
But, ah! destruction stops not there,
Sin kills beyond the tomb.

5 To-day the gospel calls, to-day;
Sinners, it speaks to you!
Let every one forsake his way,
And mercy will ensue;―

6 Rich mercy, dearly bought with blood,
How vile soe'er he be;
Abundant pardon-peace with God,
All given entirely free.

300. S. M. W. & B.

Judgment is disarmed of terror by Faith. NOW, ere the trumpet shakes

The

dead,
Hark, from the gospel's peaceful voice,
What joyful tidings spread!

2 Ye sinners, seek his grace,

Whose wrath ye cannot bear,
Fly to the shelter of his cross,
And find salvation there.'

301. C. M. Wesley's Coll.
Lord, search our hearts!

WE bow before thy gracious throne,

And think ;
But show us, Lord, is every one
Thy real worshipper?

2 Is here a soul that knows thee not,
Nor feels his want of thee?
A stranger to the blood that bought
His pardon on the tree?

3 Convince him now of unbelief,
His desperate state explain;
And fill his heart with sacred grief,
And penitential pain.

4 Speak with the voice that wakes the dead And bid the sleeper rise!

And make his guilty conscience dread
The death that never dies.

5 He must believe in Christ, or die;
Repent and turn to thee,-
Or else in chains of guilt must lie
To all eternity.

302. C. M.

False Hope destroyed,-
1,—a good one inspired.

MY

sins and fears like billows rise,
And sweep my hopes away,
That prayers and tears will e'er suffice
My debt of sin to pay.

2 But while I see the Saviour's veins
Pour forth a purple tide,
My dying hopes revive again
Beneath his bleeding side.

3 Now let me to this fountain go
To wash away my sin;

The sacred streams that from it flow,
Can make the foulest clean.

4 Here, waiting at the pool I lie,
O speak the kind release;
Speak, gracious Saviour, ere I die,
And bid me go in peace.