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5 Oh! hadst thou left me unchastis'd,
Thy precept I had still despis’d;
Had my unwary feet betray’d.
And breathe towards thy dear abode,
202. C.M.-Divine Mercies and Judgments compared. Isa, liv, 7, 8. 1 IN thy rebukes, all-gracious God,
What soft compassion reigns!
Assuage thy children's pains.
" A father's bowels move; “ One transient moment bounds my wrath,
“ But endless is my love."
And view thy smiling face,
An anthem to thy grace.
To join thy saints above;
We own thy power divine;
For all the winds are thine.
They work thy sovereign will;
Confusion shall be still.
3 Thy mercy tempers every blast
to them that seek thy face, And mingles with the tempest's roar
The whispers of thy grace.
Till all the tumult cease,
204. L.M.-The weeping Seed-time, and joyful Harvest. Ps. cxxvi. 5, 6. 1 THE darken'd sky how thick it lowers!
Troubled with storms and big with showers; No cheerful gleam of light appears,
But nature pours forth all her tears. 2 Yet let the sons of grace revive;
God bids the soul that seeks him, live;
Calls forth a morning of delight. 3 The seeds of ecstasy unknown,
Are in these water'd furrows sown;
And with fresh verdure bless our eyes. 4 In secret foldings they contain
Unnumber'd ears of golden grain;
Till the ripe harvest load the ground.
And find his sheaves and bear them home; The voice long broke with sighs shall sing, Till heaven with hallelujahs ring.
The dictates of thy God;
Of his appointed rod.
2 Now let me search and try my ways,
And prostrate seek his face, Conscious of guilt before his throne,
In dust my soul abase.
And all my crimes forgive;
But to thy honour live.
That all on earth is vain;
True rest and bliss to gain.
To leave this mournful land,
That flow at thy right hand,
206. C.M.-Quietness under Affliction a proper acknowledgment of God.
Ps. xlvi. 10.
That blasts our joys in death;
And gathers back our breath, 2 'Tis he, the Potentate supreme
Of all the worlds above,
Nor from their purpose move.
Our souls a sacrifice;
A thousand rich supplies.
In Christ our bleeding Lord;
5 Fair garlands of immortal bliss
He weaves for every brow,
If he correct us now?
I kiss thy scourging hand;
207. C.M.-God's afflicted Poor trusting in his Name. Zeph. iii. 12. 1 PRAISE to the Sovereign of the sky,
Who from his lofty throne,
And calls such souls his own. 2 The haughty sinner he disdains,
Though gems his temples crown;
His vengeance hurls him down. 3 On his afflicted pious poor
He makes his face to shine;
With lustre all divine.
There let my dwelling be,
If absent, Lord, from thee.
In thy strong name we trust;
Which lifts us from the dust.
That leads us to the saints' abode;
2 And what is all we suffer now,
Or all we can endure below,
We hail thy sacred name:
Thy goodness is the same.
Its wondrous mercy pours;
And plenteous as the showers. 3 Inconstant service we repay,
And treacherous vows renew;
And transient as the dew.
And loud implore thy grace,
In all thy righteous ways.
Our souls shall steadfast move,
On to thy courts above.
Pursues his radiant way,
My prayer, O Lord! indulgent meet,