Lift from the dust your mournful eye, And know the Lord, your help, is nigh; These sorrows from your breasts shall roll, And comfort bless the humble soul: Let cheerful hope in every bosom spring, For boundless mercy dwells with heaven's immortal King. 4. All ye who bend beneath the stroke of time, care, And bids the saint rejoice, the sinner not despair. 141. S. M. WATTS. Mercy in the midst of judgement. 1. My soul, repeat his praise, Whose mercies are so great; Whose anger is so slow to rise, So ready to abate. 2. High as the heavens are raised 3. His power subdues our sins; 4. The pity of the Lord, To those who fear his name, Is such as tender parents feel: He knows our feeble frame. 5. Our days are as the grass, If one sharp blast sweep o'er the field, 6. But thy compassions, Lord, And children's children ever find Thy words of promise sure. 142. C. M. MRS. CARTER. 1. O THOU, the wretched's sure retreat, 2. Did ever thine indulgent ear The humble plea disdain? Or when did plaintive misery sigh 3. Oppress'd with grief and shame, dissolved In penitential tears, Thy goodness calms our restless doubts, And dissipates our fears. 4. New life from thy refreshing grace 5. From that blest source, propitious hope And sheds her soft diffusive beam 6. Our griefs confess her vital power, 143. C. M. DODDRIDGE. God's compassion to human frailty. 1. LORD, we adore thy wondrous name, And make that name our trust, Which raised at first this curious frame From mean and lifeless dust. 2. Awhile these frail machines endure, The fabric of a day; Then know their vital powers no more, But moulder back to clay. 3. Yet, Lord, whate'er is felt or fear'd, That he by whom this frame was rear'd 4. Thou view'st us with a pitying eye, 5. Gently supported by thy love, BEGIN, my tongue, some heavenly theme, 2. Tell of his wondrous faithfulness, 3. Proclaim salvation from the Lord His hand hath writ the sacred word 4. Engraved as in eternal brass 5. His very word of grace is strong 145. P. M. DODDRIDGE, The faithfulness of God in his promises. 1. THE promises I sing, Which sovereign love hath spoke; His words of grace revoke; They stand secure And steadfast still; Abides so sure. 2. The mountains melt away In radiant lines |