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O let my prayer acceptance find,
And bring the mighty blessing down;
Eyesight impart, for I am blind;
And seal me Thine adopted son:
A fallen, helpless creature take,
And heir of Thy salvation make.

"THE END OF ALL THINGS IS AT HAND."

So many years I've seen the sun,

And called these hands and eyes my own;

A thousand little acts I've done,

And childhood have, and manhood known: Oh! what is Life! and this dull round

To tread, why was a spirit bound?

So many airy thoughts and lines,

And vain exertions of the mind, Have filled my soul with great designs, While practice grovelled far behind : Oh what is Thought! and where withdraw The glories which my fancy saw?

So

many tender joys and woes

Have on my quivering soul had power;
Plain life with heightening passions rose,
The boast or burden of their hour:
Oh what is all we feel! why fled

Those pains and pleasures o'er my head?

So many human souls divine

So at one interview displayed, Some oft and freely mixt with mine,

In lasting bands my heart have laid : Oh what is Friendship! why imprest On my weak, wretched, dying breast!

So many wondrous gleams of light,
And gentle ardours from above,
Have made me sit, like seraph bright,
Some moments on a throne of love :
Oh what is Virtue! why had I,
Who am so low, a taste so high?

Ere long, when sovereign wisdom wills,
My soul an unknown path shall tread,
And strangely leave, which strangely fills
This frame, and waft me to the dead:
Oh what is Death!-'Tis life's last shore,
Where vanities are vain no more;
Where all pursuits their goal obtain,

And Life is all retouched again;

Where in their bright results shall rise,

Thoughts, virtues, friendships, griefs, and joys.

"I AM THINE, OH SAVE ME!"

THAT I am Thine, my Lord and God!
Sprinkled and ransomed by Thy blood,-
Repeat that word once more,
With such an energy and light,
That this world's flattery or spite

To shake me never may have power.

From various cares, my heart retires;
Though deep and boundless its desires,
I'm now to please but One:
He, before whom the elders bow,
With Him is all my business now,

And with the souls that are His own.

This is my joy (which ne'er can fail,)
To see my Saviour's arm prevail;
To mark the steps of grace;

How new-born souls, convinced of sin;
His blood revealed to them within,

Extol my Lord in every place.

With these my happy lot is cast :
Through the world's deserts, rude and waste,
Or through its gardens fair;
Whether the storm of malice sweeps,

Or all in dead supineness sleeps,

Still to go on be my whole care.

See! the dear flock by Jesus drawn,
In blest simplicity move on;

They trust his shepherds' crook.
Beholders many faults will find,
But they can tell their Saviour's mind;
Content, if written in His book.

No, my dear Lord, in following Thee,
Not in the dark, uncertainly,

This foot obedient moves:

Tis with a brother and a King,

Who many to His yoke will bring,
Who ever lives and ever loves.

Now then, my Way, my Truth, my Life!
Henceforth let sorrow, doubt, and strife
Drop off, like autumn leaves ;-
Henceforth, as privileged by Thee,
Simple and undistracted be

My soul, which to Thy sceptre cleaves.

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