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o He raises monarchs to their thrones, e And sinks them as he please.) 04 If light attends the course I run,
'Tis he provides those rays ! e And 'tis his hand that hides my sun,
If darkness clouds my days.
Nor vainly long to see
What months are writ for me.
Oh, may I read my name
HYMN 100. L. M. Carthage. [b] Presence of Christ the Life of my Soul. 1 (TTOW full of anguish is the thought,
11 How it distracts and tears my heart, If God at last, my soy'reign Judge, Should frown, and bid my soul-depart! 2 Lord, when I quit this earthly stage, Where shall I fly--but to thy breast? For I have sought no other home : For I have learnt no other rest. 3 I cannot live contented here, Without some glimpses of thy face ; And heav'n, without thy presence there Will be a dark and tiresome place. 4 When earthly cares engross the day, And hold my thoughts aside from thee, The shining hours of cheerful light, Are long and tedious years to me. 5 And if no evening visit's paid Between my Saviour and my soul, How dull the night! how sad the shade ! How mournfully the minutes roll! 6 This flesh of mine might learn as soon To live, yet part with all my blood; To breathe, when vital air is gone, Or thrive and grow without my food. ng (Christ is my light, my life, my care, My blessed hope, my heav'nly prize ; Dearer than all my passions are, My limbs, my bowels, or my eyes.
8 The strings that twine about my heart,
HYMN 101. C. M. Bangor. *]
✓ We look on things below, Honour, and gold, and sensual joy,
How vain and dangerous too? 2 (Honour's a puff of noisy breath;
Yet men expose their blood, And venture everlasting death,
To gain that airy good.. 3 While others starve the nobler mind,
And feed on shining dust; They rob the serpent of his food,
T' indulge a sordid lust.)
Are dang'rous snares to souls ;
And dash'd with bitter bowls.
My portion and my choice;
And all my pow'rs rejoice.
And tempts my heart anew;
A Happy Resurrection.
N But with a cheerful gasp resign,
To the cold dungeon of the grave,
These dying, with’ring limbs of mine. e 2 Let worms devour my wasting flesh,
And crumble all my bones to dust :o My God shall raise my frame anen,
At the revival of the just.
4 [Our wearied spirits faint to see
Where God has shed his richest grace. o 5 Haste then upon the wings of love,
Rouse all the pious sleeping clay;
Christ's Commission. John iïi, 16, 17. 11 MOME, happy souls, approach your Gods
U With new melodious songs; Come, tender to Almighty grace
The tributes of your tongues.
That pity'd dying men,
To give them life again.
With a revenging rod;
The vengeance of a God.
And wrath forsook the throne, o When Christ on the kind errand came,
And brought salvation down. -5 Here, sinners, you may heal your wounds,
And wipe your sorrows dry ; o Trust in the mighty Saviour's name,
And you shall never die. e 6 See, dearest Lord, our willing souls Accept thine offer'd grace ;
o We bless the great Redeemer's love,
1 To an immortal tune ;
Celestial grace has done. 0 2 Sing how Eternal Love
Its chief Beloved chose ;
From their abyss of woes.
No terrour clothes his brow; No bolts to drive our guilty souls
To fiercer flames below.
And wrath stood silent by-
To rebels doom'd to die.
Let hopeless sorrow cease ; d Bow to the sceptre of his love,
And take the offer'd peace.
And love and praise thy name.
Repentance flowing from Divine Patience. e 1 AND are we wretches yet alive!
A And do we yet rebel!
That bears us up from hell!
Would sink us down to flames ;
To crush our feeble frames.
And strait the thunder stays : e And dare we now provoke his wrath,
And weary out his grace ?
p 4 Lord, we have long abus'd thy love,
Too long indulg'd our sin;
What rebels we have been.
No more will we obey ;
And drive thy foes away.
Repentanie at the Cross. p1 OH, if my soul was form’d for wo,
How would I vent my sighs! Repentance should like rivers flow,
From both my streaming eyes.
Hung on the cursed tree,
For thee, my soul, for thee.
That crucify'd my God;
Fast to the fatal wood.
My heart has so decreed;
That made my Saviour bleed.
My murder'd Lord I view,
And slay the murd'rers too.
Everlasting Absence of God intolerable.,
I Th' appointed hour makes hasteWhen I must stand before my Judge,
And pass the solemn test. e 2 Thou lovely Chief of all my joys,
Thou Sov'reign of my heart, How could I bear to hear thy voice d Pronounce the sound, Depart ! e 3 The thunder of that dismal word
Would so distress my ear,