2

3

4

5

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 glimmering 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.

266

2

"Behold, I am vile." Job xl. 4.
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 every part,
What evils do I see!

3

If I attempt to pray,

4

And lisp thy holy name,

My thoughts are hurried soon away,

My soul is put to shame.

If in thy word I look,

Such darkness fills my mind,

I only read a sealed book,
But no relief can find.

5 And must I then indeed

Sink in despair and die?

Lord, I believe that thou didst bleed
For such a wretch as I

Cowper.

S. M.

6 Low at thy feet I bow;

Oh pity and forgive;

Here will I lie and wait till thou

Shalt bid me rise and live.

Newton.

267

THE SUPPLIANT.

The Suppliant.

1 JESUS, full of all compassion,
Hear thy humble suppliant's cry;
Let me know thy great salvation;
See, I languish, faint, and die.
2 Guilty, but with heart relenting,
Overwhelmed with helpless grief,
Prostrate at thy feet repenting
Send, oh send me quick relief.
3 Whither should a wretch be flying,
But to him who comfort gives?
Whither, from the dread of dying,
But to him who ever lives?

4 On the word thy blood hath sealed
Hangs my everlasting all;
Let thy arm be now revealed,

Stay, oh stay me, lest I fall.

5 Saved the deed shall spread new glory

Through the shining realms above;

Angels sing the pleasing story,

All enraptured with thy love.

268

1 ΑΝ

Ingratitude of the sinful Heart.

ND will the Lord thus condescend
To visit sinful worms?

Thus at the door shall mercy stand,
In all her winning forms?

2 Surprising grace!-and shall my heart
Unmoved and cold remain?

Has this hard rock no tender part?
Must mercy plead in vain ?

8.7.

Turner.

C. M.

3 Shall Jesus for admittance sue,
His charming voice unheard?
And this vile heart, his rightful due,
Remain for ever barred?

4 'Tis sin, alas, with tyrant power,
The lodging has possessed;

And crowds of traitors bar the door
Against the heavenly guest.

5 Ye dangerous inmates, hence depart;
Dear Saviour, enter in ;

And guard the passage to my heart,
And keep out every sin.

269

1

2

3

Ingratitude lamented.

S this the kind return,

Are these the thanks we owe

Thus to abuse eternal love,

Whence all our blessings flow?

To what a stubborn frame

Has sin reduced our mind!

Mrs. Steele.

What strange, rebellious wretches we,
And God as strangely kind!

On us he bids the sun

Shed his reviving rays;

For us the skies their circles run,

To lengthen out our days.

4 The brutes obey their God,

5

And bow their necks to men;

But we, more base, more brutish things,
Reject his easy reign.

Turn, turn us, mighty God,

And mould our souls afresh;

S. M.

Break, sovereign grace, these hearts of stone,

And give us hearts of flesh.

6 Let past ingratitude

Provoke our ■ ■ ing eyes;

And hourly, as new mercies fall,

Let hourly thanks arise.

270

1 ΑΝ

The Divine Patience.

ND are we, wretches, yet alive?
And do we yet rebel?

Watts.

C. M.

'Tis boundless, 'tis amazing love
That bears us up from hell!
2 The burden of our weighty guilt
Would sink us down to flames;
And threatening vengeance rolls above,
To crush our feeble frames.

S Almighty goodness cries-" Forbear"-
And straight the thunder stays;
And dare we now provoke his wrath,
And weary out his grace?

4 No more, ye lusts, shall ye command;
No more will we obey:

Stretch out, O God, thy conquering hand,
And drive thy foes away.

1 SOVEREIGN Ruler, Lord of all,
Prostrate at thy feet I fall;
Hear, oh hear the sinner's cry,
Frown not lest I faint and die.
2 Vilest of the sons of men,
Worst of rebels I have been;
Oft abused thee to thy face,
Trampled on thy richest grace.
3 Justly might thy vengeful dart
Pierce this bleeding, broken heart;
Justly might thy kindled ire

Blast me in eternal fire.

4 But with thee there 's mercy found,
Balm to heal my every wound;
Soothe, oh soothe the troubled breast,
Give the weary wanderer rest.

272

Review of the Past.

1 A Why heaves the secret sigh?

S o'er the past my memory strays,

'Tis that I mourn departed days,
Still unprepared to die.

2 The world and worldly things beloved,
My anxious thoughts employed;
And time unhallowed, unimproved,
Presents a fearful void.

Watts.

7s.

Raffles.

C. M.

3 Yet, O my Saviour, wild despair
Chase from my laboring breast;
Thy grace it is which prompts the prayer,
That grace can do the rest.

4 My life's brief remnant all be thine;
And when thy sure decree

Bids me this fleeting breath resign,
Oh speed my soul to thee.

273

In-dwelling Sin Lamented.

1 WITH tears of anguish I lament,
Here at thy feet, my God,

My passion, pride, and discontent,
And vile ingratitude.

2 Sure there was ne'er a heart so base,
So false as mine has been ;
So faithless to its promises,

So prone to every sin.

3 How long, dear Saviour, shall I feel These struggles in my breast?

When wilt thou bow my stubborn will,

And give my conscience rest?

Middleton.

C. M.

4 Break, sovereign grace, oh break the charm, And set the captive free:

Reveal, Almighty God, thy arm,

And haste to rescue me.

274

The Contrite Heart.

1 LORD, I would now repentWith all my idols part,

2

3

And to thy gracious eye present
A humble, contrite heart:

A heart with grief oppressed,
For having grieved my God;
A troubled heart that cannot rest
Till washed in Jesus' blood.

Jesus, on me bestow

The penitent desire; With true sincerity of wo My aching breast inspire.

4 With softening pity look,

And melt my hardness down ;

Stennett.

S. M.