For whom didst thou languish,
And bleed on the tree?
Oh, pity my anguish,
And say, 'Twas for thee!'
7 A case such as mine
Will honour thy pow'r;
All hell will repine,
All heav'n will adore;
If in condemnation
Strict justice takes place,
It shines in salvation,
More glorious through grace.
O LORD, how vile am I,
Unholy and unclean!
How can I dare to venture nigh
With such a load of sin?
Is this polluted heart
A dwelling fit for thee?
Swarming, alas! in ev'ry part,
What evils do I see!
If I attempt to pray,
And lisp thy holy name,
My thoughts are hurried soon away;
I know not where I am.
Such darkness fills my mind,
I only read a sealed book,
But no relief can find.
Thy Gospel oft I hear,
But hear it still in vain;
Without desire, or love, or fear,
I like a stone remain.
Myself can hardly bear
This wretched heart of mine; How hateful, then, it must appear To those pure eyes of thine!
Fain would I hope that thou did'st bleed
For such a wretch as 1.
8 That blood which thou hast spilt,
That grace which is thine own,
Can cleanse the vilest sinner's guilt,
And soften hearts of stone.
Oh, pity and forgive!
Here will I lie, and wait till thou
Shalt bid me rise and live.
VIII. C. The shining Light.
My former hopes are fled,
My terror now begins;
I feel, alas! that I am dead
In trespasses and sins.
Ah! whither shall I fly?
I hear the thunder roar;
The law proclaims destruction nigh,
And vengeance at the door.
When I review my ways,
I dread impending doom;
But sure a friendly whisper says,
'Flee from the wrath to come.'
I see, or think I see,
A glimm'ring from afar;
A beam of day that shines for me,
To save me from despair.
Forerunner of the sun*,
It marks the pilgrim's way;
I'll gaze upon it while I run,
And watch the rising day.
1 My soul is beset
With grief and dismay;
I owe a vast debt,
And nothing can pay:
I must go to prison,
Unless that dear Lord,
Who died and is risen,
His pity afford.
The death that he died,
The blood that he spilt,
To sinners applied,
Discharge from all guilt:
This great Intercessor
Can give, if he please,
The vilest transgressor
Immediate release.
3 When nail'd to the tree,
He answer'd the pray'r
Of one who, like me,
Was nigh to despair +:
He did not upbraid him
With all he had done,
But instantly made him
A saint and a son.
4 The jailor, I read,
A pardon receiv'd;
And how was he freed?
He only believ'd;
His case mine resembled,
Like me he was foul;
Like me too he trembled,
But faith made him whole.
5 Though Saul, in his youth,
To madness enrag'd,
Against the Lord's truth
And people engag'd;
Yet Jesus, the Saviour,
Whom long he revil'd *,
Receiv'd him to favour,
And made him a child.
6 A foe to all good,
In wickedness skill'd,
Manasseh with blood
Jerusalem fill'd+:
In evil long harden'd,
The Lord he defy'd;
Yet he too was pardon'd
When mercy he cry'd.
7 Of sinners the chief,
And viler than all,
The jailor or thief,
Manasseh or Saul;
Since they were forgiven,
Why should I despair,
While Christ is in heaven,
And still answers pray'r?
1 BREATHE from the gentle south, O Lord,
And cheer me from the north;
Blow on the treasures of thy word,
And call the spices forth!
† 2 Chron. xxxiii. 12, 13.
2 I wish, thou know'st, to be resign'd,
And wait with patient hope;
But hope delay'd fatigues the mind,
And drinks the spirits up.
3 Help me to reach the distant goal;
Confirm my feeble knee;
Pity the sickness of a soul
That faints for love of thee.
4 Cold as I feel this heart of mine,
Yet, since I feel it so,
It yields some hope of life divine
Within, however low.
5 I seem forsaken and alone,
I hear the lion roar;
And ev'ry door is shut but one,
And that is mercy's door.
6 There, till the dear Deliv'rer come,
I'll wait with humble pray'r,
And, when he calls his exile home,
The Lord shall find him there.
1 CHEER up, my soul, there is a mercy-seat, Sprinkled with blood, where Jesus answers pray'r;
There humbly cast thyself beneath his feet,
For never needy sinner perish'd there.
2 Lord, I am come! thy promise is my plea;
Without thy word I durst not venture.nigh;
But thou hast call'd the burden'd soul to thee,-
A weary burden'd soul, O Lord, am I!
3 Bow'd down beneath a heavy load of sin,
By Satan's fierce temptations sorely prest,
Beset without, and full of fears within,
Trembling and faint, I come to thee for rest.
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