Who yet to suppliant dust art nigh,
Thy presence I implore.

2 Oh, guide me down the steep of age,
And keep my passions cool;
Teach me to scan the sacred page,
And practice ev'ry rule.

3. My flying years time urges on,
What's human must decay;

My friends, my young companions, gone,
Can I expect to stay?

4 Ah! no-then smooth the mortal hour,
On thee my hope depends;
Support me with almighty pow'r,
While dust to dust descends.

HYMN 551. C. M.

SEF

Bangor, Walsal.

STEELE.

Public Fast. Joel i. 14.

EE, gracious Lord, before thy throne,
Thy mourning people bend!

"Tis on thy sov'reign grace alone,

Our humble hopes depend.

2 Tremendous judgments, from thy hand, Thy dreadful pow'rs display;

Yet mercy spares this guilty land,
And still we live to pray.

3 How chang'd, alas! are truths divine,
For error, guilt, and shame!

What impious numbers, bold in sin,
Disgrace the Christian name.

4 0 turn us, turn us, mighty Lord, By thy resistless grace;

Then shall our hearts obey thy word,
And humbly seek thy face.

5 Then, should insulting foes invade,
We shall not sink in fear;
Secure of never failing aid,
When God, our God, is near.

HYMN 552.

C. M.

Reading, Plymouth.

NEWTON.

1

+

Afflictions needful. Heb. xii. 5—11.

BREAK

REAK thro' the clouds, dear Lord, and shine,

Let us perceive thee nigh!

And to each mourning child of thine,
These gracious words apply:

2 "Let not my children slight the stroke, I for chastisement send

Nor faint beneath my kind rebuke,
For I am still their friend.

9 "The wicked I perhaps may leave
Awhile and not reprove;
But all the children I receive,
I scourge, because I love.

4 "I see your hearts at present fill'd,
With grief and deep distress;

But soon these bitter seeds shall yield
The fruits of righteousness.”

411

+

HYMN 553.

LONG

L. M.

Warwick, Armley.

ONG unafflicted, undismay'd,
In pleasure's path, secure I stray'd;
When made to feel thy chast'ning rod,
I straight return'd to thee, my God.

2 What tho' it pierc'd my fainting heart-
I bless the hand that caus'd the smart;
It taught my tears awhile to flow,

But sav'd me from eternal wo.

3 Oh, hadst thou left me unchastis'd,
Thy precepts I had still despis'd,
With daring rebels been the same,
Or gone where mercy never came.

HYMN 554. C. M.

Plymouth, Standish.

HY should the Christian waste in sighs

'W The breath that God hath giv'n;

Whom ev'ry passing hour that flies
Bears onward fast to heav'n?

2 Why should he wish for perfect bliss,
In this dark world forlorn;
Or seek, amidst the wilderness,
A rose without a thorn.

3 Our Father God! be ours the grief,
Which to thy sons belongs;

And let us share in their relief,
Their everlasting songs.

HYMN 555. C. M.

Plymouth, Buckingham.

1 W The heart resign'd-at rest;

ERE once our vain desires subdu❜d,

In ev'ry scene we should conclude
The will of heav'n is best.

2 Lord, we expect to suffer here,
Nor would we dare repine;
But give us still to find thee near,
And own us still for thine.

HYMN 556. C. M.

Elgin, Plymouth.

TOPLADY.

Afliction sweetened. Ps. civ. 34. 1 WHEN languor and disease invade

This trembling house of clay,

'Tis sweet to look beyond my pains,
And long to fly away.

2 Sweet to look inward, and attend
The whispers of his love;

Sweet to look upward to the place
Where Jesus pleads above.

3 Sweet to reflect, how grace divine
My sins on Jesus laid;

Sweet to remember that his blood
My debt of suff'ring paid.

Sweet on his faithfulness to rest,
Whose love can never end;

Sweet on his covenant of grace
For all things to depend.

5 Sweet, in the confidence of faith,
To trust his firm decrees;
Sweet to lie passive in his hand,
And know no will but his.

6 If such the sweetness of the streams,
What must the fountain be,
Where saints and angels draw their bliss
Immediately from thee!

Standish, Martyrs, Lebanon.
Joy in sorrow.

ND let this feeble body fail,

My soul shall quit the mournful vale,
And soar to worlds on high:

2 Shall join the disembody'd saints,
And find its long sought rest,

(The only rest for which it pants,)
On the Redeemer's breast.

3 In hope of that immortal crown,
I now the cross sustain ;
And gladly wander up and down,
And smile at toil and pain.

4 I travel my appointed years,
Till my Deliv'rer come,

And wipe away his servant's tears,
And take his exile home.