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433. S. M. Doddridge. Rejoicing in the ways of God.

TOW let our voices join,

a

song;

Ye pilgrims, in Jehovah's ways,
With music pass along.

Sweet flowers of paradise
In rich profusion spring;
The Son of glory gilds the path,
And dear companions sing.

3 See Salem's golden spires
In beauteous prospect rise;
And brighter crowns than mortals wear,
Which sparkle through the skies.

4 All honour to his name

Who marks the shining way!
To Him, who leads the wand'rers on,
To realms of endless day.

434. 7's. Cennick.

Rejoicing in hope. Isa. xxxv. 10. HILDREN of the heavenly King

Sing our Saviour's worthy praise,
Glorious in his works and ways.
2 We are trav'lling home to God,
In the way the fathers trod;
They are happy now, and we
Soon their happiness shall see.
3 O, ye banish'd seed, be glad!
Christ our advocate is made;
Us to save, our flesh assumes;
Brother to our souls becomes.
4 Shout, ye little flock, and blest!
You on Jesus' throne shall rest:
There your seat is now prepar'd;
There your kingdom and reward.

5 Fear not, brethren, joyful stand
On the borders of our land;
Jesus Christ, the Father's Son,
Bids us undismay'd go on.
6 Lord! submissive make us go,
Gladly leaving all below;
Only thou our leader be,
And we still will follow thee.

435. L. M. Hart.
The stony heart lamented.

H! for a glance of heavenly day,
away,

And thaw, with beams of love divine,
This heart, this frozen heart of mine.

2 The rocks can rend, the earth can quake.
The seas can roar, the mountains shake ;-
Of feeling all things show some sign,
But this unfeeling heart of mine.

3 To hear the sorrows thou hast felt,
Dear Lord, an adamant would melt;
But I can read each moving line,
And nothing move this heart of mine.
4 But something, Lord, can do the deed,
And that dear something, much I need;
Thy Spirit can from dross refine,
And move, and melt, this heart of mine.

436. C. M.

Cowper.

The contrite heart. Isa. lvii. 15.

TH

HE Lord will happiness divine
On contrite hearts bestow;
Then tell me, gracious God, is mine
A contrite heart or no?

2 I hear, but seem to hear in vain, Insensible as steel;

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

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3 I sometimes think myself inclin'd
To love thee if I could;

But often feel another mind,
Averse to all that's good.

4 My best desires are faint and few, fain would strive for more;

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But, when I cry, my strength renew,' Seem weaker than before.

5 Thy saints are comforted, I know,
And Iove thy house of prayer;
I sometimes go where others go,
But find no comfort there.

6 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!

437. C. M. Watts. Love to the creatures dangerous.

H

ow vain are all things here below!
How false, and yet how fair!
Each pleasure hath its poison too,
And every sweet a snare.

2 The brightest things below the sky,
Give but a flattering light;
We should suspect some danger nigh,
Where we possess delight.

3 Our dearest joys, and nearest friends,
The partners of our blood,
How they divide our wavering minds,
And leave but half for God!

4 The fondness of a creature's love,

How strong it strikes the sense;
Thither the warm affections move
Nor can we call them thence.

5 Dear Saviour! let thy beauties be My soul's eternal food;

And grace command my heart away,
From all created good.

438. 7's. Newton.

The believer anxious about his state.

T

IS a point I long to know,
Oft it causes anxious thought; -
Do I love the Lord, or no;
Am I his, or am I not?

2 If I love, why am I thus?

Why this dull and lifeless frame?
Hardly, sure, can they be worse,
Who have never heard his name.

3 Could my heart so hard remain,
Prayer a task and burden prove;
Every trifle give me pain;
If I knew a Saviour's love?

4 If I pray, or hear, or read,

Sin is mixt with all I do;
You that love the Lord indeed,
Tell me, is it thus with you?

5 Yet I mourn my stubborn will,
Find my sin a grief and thrall;
Should I grieve for what I feel,
If I did not love at all?

6 Could I joy his saints to meet;
Choose the ways I once abhorr'd;
Find, at times, the promise sweet;
If I did not love the Lord?

7 Lord, decide the doubtful case,
Thou, who art thy people's sun,
Shine upon thy work of grace,
If it be, indeed, begun.

8 Let me love thee more and more,
If I love at all, I pray;
If I have not lov'd before,
Help me to begin to-day.

439. L. M.

Be not conformed to this world. Rom. xii. 2.

WHEN first the Lord his grace reveal'd,

And blest me with a

seal'd ;

My soul was fill'd with love and joy,
And prayer and praise my sweet employ.
2 With what delight I walk'd the road
To Zion, still my blest abode,

To mingle songs with kindred souls,
For here salvation's current rolls!

3 But now, alas! those scenes have fled,
And left me joyless, dull, and dead;
Now prayer and praise a task I find,
And darkness shrouds my guilty mind.
4 Can this vain world e'er fill the place
Once occupied by cheering grace?
Its glittering toys, its specious charms,
Thrust my Redeemer from my arms?
5 Deluding world! no more intrude;
Awake, awake, sweet gratitude,
Explore the blissful scenes once felt,
Perhaps this frozen heart may melt.
6 Arise, my faith, on wings sublime,
And bear this stupid soul of mine
To Calvary, where my dying God,
Shall drown the world and sin in blood.

440. C. M.

We hanged our harps upon the willows.

ON willows, near to Babel's flood,

Our tuneless harps we hung, While foes to us, and foes to God, Said, 'sing us Zion's song.'

2 When love, and zeal, and joy decline,
And darkness reigns within;

When doubts and fears assail the mind,
Is it a time to sing?

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