Christ shall assert me for his own ;-
Ah! then, what happiness for me!
1 WHEN musing sorrow weeps the past,
And mourns the present pain,
'Tis sweet to think of peace at last,
And feel that death is gain.
2 'Tis not that murmuring thoughts arise,
And dread a Father's will;
'Tis not that meek submission flies,
And would not suffer still;—
3 It is that heaven-born faith surveys
The path that leads to light,
And longs her eagle plumes to raise,
And lose herself in sight.
4 It is that hope with ardour glows,
To see Him face to face,
Whose dying love no language knows
Sufficient art to trace.
5 It is that harass'd conscience feels
The pangs of struggling sin;
And sees, though far, the hand that heals
And ends the strife within.
6 O let me wing my hallow'd flight
From earth-born wo and care,
And soar above these clouds of night,
My Saviour's bliss to share!
The sorrowful Pilgrim.
I THOU wretched man of sorrow,
Whose eyes all day o'erflow,
Indulge thy grief, and borrow.
The night for farther wo:
In ceaseless lamentation,
Thy solemn moments spend,
And groan thy expectation,
That pain, with life, shall end.
2 My comforts all are blasted,
My Comforter is gone:
The joy which once I tasted,
O that I ne'er had known!
The gourd, which sooth'd my anguish,
Is wither'd o'er my head;
And, faint with grief, I languish,
To sink among the dead.
3 From all I suffer here,
(If God my sins forgive,)
From all I feel, and fear,
I there, redeem'd, shall live:
No serpent to deceive me,
No sin to stain my thought,
No loss, or wrong to grieve me,
Where all things are forgot.
4 No heart-distracting passion
Is there to break my peace,
But joy without cessation,
And love without excess:
Of paradise secure,
I shall no longer mourn;
The bliss is full, and sure,
The rose without a thorn.
5 In hope of that salvation,
I feel a moment's rest,
The calm of expectation
Has stole into my breast;
I weep at rescue near,
I struggle to be gone,
And joy is in the tear,
And God is in the groan.
1 GREAT Author of my being, Who seest mine inward care,
The ills of thy decreeing
Enable me to bear;
The justice of thy sentence
With meekest awe to own,
And spend in deep repentance,
My last, expiring groan.
2 The grief beyond expressing
To me, to me impart :
I ask this only blessing-
An humble, broken heart:
The spirit of contrition
O might I now receive;
For all my soul's ambition
Is worthily to grieve!
3 Thou know'st my heart's desire Is only to be gone,
And silently retire,
And live, and die alone:
No sweet companion near,
To catch my latest sighs,
My dying words to hear,
Or close these weary eyes.
4 But O, Thou God of power, Thou God of love, attend,
In that decisive hour,
When pain with life shall end!
Thou, only, bear my burden,
And help my last distress,
And give me back my pardon,
And bid me die in peace!
5 0, for the Saviour's merit,
The forfeiture restore,
And land my fainting spirit
On yonder happy shore!
In safety waft me over,
To harbour in thy breast,
And let me there recover
Mine everlasting rest!
The preparation of the heart.
1 COME, my soul, thy suit prepare,
Jesus loves to answer prayer:
He himself has bid thee pray,
Therefore will not say thee, Nay.
2 Thou art coming to a King,
Large petitions with thee bring;
For his grace and power are such,
None can ever ask too much.
3 With my burden I begin :-
Lord, remove this load of sin!
Let thy blood, for sinners spilt,
Set my conscience free from guilt!
4 Lord, I come to Thee for rest;
Take possession of my breast;
There, thy blood-bought right maintain,
And, without a rival, reign.
5 While I am a pilgrim here,
Let thy love my spirit cheer;
As my Guide, my Guard, my Friend,.
Lead me to my journey's end!
6 Show me what I have to do;
Every hour my strength renew;
Let me live a life of faith,
Let me die thy people's death.
The trial of faith and patience.
1 GOD's furnace doth in Sion stand,
But Sion's God stands by,
As the refiner views his gold,
With an observant eye.
His thoughts are high, his love is wise,
His wounds a cure intend;
And though He doth not always smile,
He loves unto the end.
3 Thy love is constant to its line,
Though clouds oft come between :
O, could my faith but pierce those clouds,
It might be always seen.
4 But I am weak, and forced to cry,
Take up my soul to Thee;
Then, as Thou ever art the same,
So shall I also be.
1 SHALL I, for fear of feeble man,
The Spirit's course in me restrain?
Or, undismay'd, in deed and word,
Be a true witness to my Lord?
2 Awed by a mortal's frown, shall I
Conceal the word of God Most High?
How, then, before Thee shall I dare
To stand, or how thine anger bear?
3 Shall I, to sooth the' unholy throng, Soften thy truths, and smooth my tongue? To gain earth's gilded toys, or flee
The cross endured, my God, by Thee!
4 What, then, is he, whose scorn I dread,
Whose wrath or hate makes me afraid?
A man! an heir of death, a slave
To sin, a bubble on the wave!
5 Yea, let man rage, since Thou wilt spread
Thy shadowing wings around my head;
Since in all pain, thy tender love
Will still my sweet refreshment prove.
6 The love of Christ does me constrain
To seek the wandering souls of men;
With cries, entreaties, tears, to save,
To snatch them from the gaping grave.
7 For this, let men revile my name;
No cross I shun, I fear no shame:
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