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2 Then all my servile works were done
A righteousness to raise;
Now, freely chosen in the Son,
I freely choose his ways.
3 To see the law by Christ fulfill'd,
And hear his pard’ning voice,
Will change a slave into a child,
And duty into choice. Cowper.
1 How sad our state by nature is '
Our sin, how deep its stains !
And Satan binds our captive minds
Fast in his slavish chains.
2. But there's a voice of sovereign grace
Sounds from the sacred word:
“Ho! ye despairing sinners, come,
“And trust upon the Lord.”
3 My soul obeys th’ almighty call,
And runs to this relief:
“I would believe thy promise, Lord'
“Oh! help my unbelief.
4 “To the dear fountain of thy blood,
“Incarnate God, I fly;
“Here let me wash my spotted soul
“From crimes of deepest dye.
“On thy kind arms I fall; “Be thou my strength and righteousness, “My Jesus, and my all.” Watts,
176. The Storm Hushed. C. M.
1 'Tis past—the dreadful stormy night
Is gone, with all its fears!
And now I see returning light,
The Lord, my Sun, appears.
2 Oh, wondrous change but just before
Despair beset me round;
I heard the lion's horrid roar,
And trembled at the sound.
3 Before corruption, guilt and fear,
My comforts, blasted, fell;
And unbelief discover'd near,
The dreadful depths of hell.
4 But Jesus pitied my distress; He heard my feeble cry, Reveal’d his blood and righteousness, And brought salvation nigh. 5 Dear Lord, since thou hast broke my bands,
And set the captive free,
I would devote my tongue, my hands,
My heart, my all to thee. Newton.
177. Self-Dedication to God. C. M.
1 What shall I render to my God o For all his kindness shown? o My feet shall visit thine abode, My songs address thy throne. 2 How much is mercy thy delight, \ Thou ever-blessed God! How dear thy servants in thy sight! How precious is their blood! 3 How happy all thy servants are : How great thy grace to me! My life, which thou hast made thy care, Lord, I devote to thee. 4 Now I am thine, for ever thine, Nor shall my purpose move; Thy hand has loosed my bonds of pain, And bound me with thy love. Watts.
1 Approach, my soul, the mercy-seat, Where Jesus answers prayer; There humbly fall before his feet, For none can perish there. 9 2 Thy promise is my only plea ;
With this I venture nigh;
Thou callest burden'd souls to thee,
And such, O Lord, am I.
3 Bow’d down beneath a load of sin,
By Satan sorely press'd;
By wars without, and fears within,
I come to thee for rest.
4 Be thou my shield and hiding-place,
That, shelter'd near thy side,
I may my fierce accuser face,
And tell him, “Thou hast died.”
5 O wond’rous love to bleed and die,
To bear the cross and shame,
That guilty sinners, such as I,
May plead thy gracious name!
1 'Tis 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, this lifeless frame 3
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 When I turn my eyes within,
All is dark, and vain, and wild;
Fill'd with unbelief and sin,
Can I deem myself a child?
5 If I pray, or hear, or read,
Sin is mix’d with all I do:
You, who love the Lord indeed,
Tell me—is it so with you?
6 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 ?
7 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 2
8 Lord, decide the doubtful case !
Thou, who art thy people's Sun,
Shine upon thy work of grace,
If it be indeed begun.