4 These silken cords of love divine, 'So bind my soul to God,

"And round my Saviour cling and twine, "That he sustains the load."

467. C. M. Newton.

Will ye also go away? John vi. 67.

HEN

W Alas! what numbers do!

turn from Zion's way,

Methinks I hear my Saviour say,
Wilt thou-forsake me too?"

2 Ah. Lord! with such a heart as mine,
Unless thou hold me fast,

I feel I must, I shall decline,
And prove like them at last.

3 Yet, thou alone hast power, I know,
To save a wretch like me;
To whom, or whither could I go,
If I should turn from thee?

4. The help of men and angels join'd
Could never reach my case;
Nor can I hope relief to find,
But in thy boundless grace.

5 No voice but thine can give me rest,
And bid my fears depart;

No love but thine can make me blest,
And satisfy my heart.

6 What anguish has that question stirr'd,
If I will also go?

Yet, Lord, relying on thy word,

I humbly answer-No!

468. C. M. Watts.

Desertion and Hope. Psalm xlii. 1–5.

WITH earnest longings of the mind,

My God, to thee I look;

So pants the hunted hart to find
And taste the cooling brook

2 When shall I see thy courts of grace,
And meet my God again?
So long an absence from thy face
My heart endures with pain.
3 Temptations vex my weary soul,
And tears are my repast;
The foe insults without control,
'And where's your God at last?"
4 "Tis with a mournful pleasure now
I think on former days;

Then to thy house did numbers go,
And all our work was praise.

5 But why, my soul, sunk down so far!
Beneath this heavy load?

Why do my thoughts indulge despair,
And sin against my God?

6 Hope in the Lord, whose mighty hand
Can all thy woes remove;
For I shall yet before him stand,
And sing restoring love.

469. C. M. Watts.

The Saint's pilgrimage.

DEAR Lord, the path to thine abode

Lies through a horrid land;

Yet, we would keep the heavenly road,
And run at thy command,

2 Our souls shall tread the desert through
With undiverted feet;

And faith, and flaming zeal, subdue
The terrors that we meet,

3 By glimm'ring hopes, and gloomy fears,
We trace the sacred road;

Through disinal deeps, and dangerous snares, We make our way to God.

4 See the kind angels at the gates!
Inviting us to come;

There Jesus the forerunner waits,
To welcome trav'llers home.

470. S. M. Hart.
Pride.

all our sins is pride

Do what we will, it haunts us still.
And keeps us from the Lord.
2 It blows its pois'nous breath,

And bloats the soul with air;
The heart uplifts with God's own gifts,
And makes e'en grace a snare.

3 "Tis hurtful when perceiv'd;
When not perceiv'd 'tis worse;
Unseen, or seen, it dwells within,
And works by fraud, or force.
4 Against its influence pray,
It mingles with the prayer;
Against it preach, it prompts the speech;
Be silent-still 'tis there.

5 This moment while I sing,
I feel its power within;
My heart it draws to seek applause,
And mixes all with sin.

6 Exalted Son of God!

Destroy this haughty foe!

Remove our pride, whate'er betide.
And lay, and keep us low.

471. C. M. Hart.

Tribulation.

HE souls that would to Jesus press,
Must fix this firm and sure;

That tribulation, more or less,

They must and shall endure.

2 From this there can be none exempt,
"Tis God's own wise decree;
Satan the weakest saint will tempt;
Nor is the strongest free..

3 Ten thousand baits the foe prepares,
To catch the wandering heart;
And seldom do we see the snares,
Before we feel the smart.

4 Glad frames, too often, lift us up,
And then how proud we grow!
Till sad desertion makes us droop,
And, down we sink as low.

5 But let not all this terrify;
Pursue the narrow path;

Look to the Lord with steadfast eye,
And fight with hell by faith.

6 Though we are feeble, Christ is strong;
His promises are true;-

We shall be conquerors all, ere long,
And more than conquerors too.

472. L. M. Medley.

Blessed are they which are persecuted, &c.

LEST are the souls whose suff'rings show

B Their faith, and love, and zeal are true;

Who for their Saviour yield their breath,
And triumph over hell by faith.

2 For Him they pain and death despise,
Secure of life beyond the skies;
There, as their great and sure reward,
A heavenly kingdom stands prepar❜d.
3 Prophets and saints, who're gone before,
The same dark scenes have travers'd o'er;
Through racks, and fires, and seas of blood,
They forc'd their way to meet their God.

4 Then let the suffering saints be glad,
Thus they're conform'd to Christ, their Head;
And all who suffer for his sake,

Of heavenly joys shall soon partake.

473. L. M. Walls.

The Christian race. Isa. xl. 28-31.

AWAKE, our souls, away, our fears,
Let every trembling thought he gone!
Awake, and run the heavenly race,
And put a cheerful courage on.

2 True, 'tis a strait and thorny road,
And mortal spirits tire and faint;
But they forget the mighty God,
Who feeds the strength of every saint.—

3 The mighty God, whose matchless power Is ever new, and ever young,

And firm endures, while endless years
Their everlasting circles run.

4 From thee, the overflowing spring,
Our souls shall drink a fresh supply,
While such as trust their native strength,
Shall melt away, and droop, and die.

5 Swift as an eagle cuts the air,
We'll mount aloft to thine abode;
On wings of love our souls shall fly,
Nor tire amidst the heavenly road.

474. L. M. Beddome.

Desiring communion with God.

My rising soul, with strong desires,

To perfect happiness aspires!

With steady steps would tread the road
That leads to heaven-that leads to God

2 I thirst to drink unmingled love
From the pure fountain-head above:
My dearest Lord, I long to be
Emptied of sin and full of thee.