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365. Spiritual Sloth. Our drowsy pow'rs, why sleep ye so?
Awake, each sluggish soul! Nothing has half thy work to do,
Yet nothing's half so dull.
Labour, and tug, and strive;
How negligent we live !
And stars their courses move!
Come flying from above:
And labour'd for our good, How careless to secure that crown
He purchas'd with his blood ! Lord, shall we live so sluggish still,
And never act our parts? Come, holy Dove, from th' heav'nly hill,
And sit, and warm our hearts.
Upwards our souls shall rise;
We'll fly and take the prize.
366. Gospel Privileges. O HAPPY they who know the Lord,
With whom he deigns to dwell !
is near ;
He feeds and cheers them by his word,
His arm supports them well.
He stands engag'd to hear.
And makes our burdens light;
And gilds the gloom of night.
Nor would we dare repine;
And own us still for thine.
These tokens of thy love, 'Till thou shalt bid our spirits rise,
To worship thee above.
367. Prayer for Divine Love. O Love divine, how sweet thou art! When shall I find my longing heart
All taken up by thee?
The love of Christ to me.
In each poor stony heart !
347 For love I'd sigh, for love I'd pine, This only portion, Lord, be mine,
Be mine this better part!
Be this our happy choice!
To hear the bridegroom's voice.
Nothing in heav'n above;
Give us thy precious love !
368. Happiness in God's Ways
Of this world's vain store;
With me now is o'er.
Where true joys abound;
On that happy ground.
In Paradise live,
Will Jesus receive.
My soul, don't delay,
He calls thee away;
And bless the glad day.
What he can bestow;
Go after him, go.
• Receive me,' I'll cry,
I cannot say why!
My neighbours may share
Will none of you dare?
you lie, When one here assures you
Free grace is so nigh?
369. Divine Grace. O LORD, how great's the favour,
That we such sinners poor,
Approach thy mercy's door,
Unto the throne of grace ; There wait the welcome message,
Which bids us go in peace.
Lord, we are helpless creatures,
Full of the deepest need, Throughout defil'd by nature,
Stupid and inly dead; Our strength is perfect weakness,
And all we have is sin; Our hearts are all uncleanness,
A den of thieves within. In this forlorn condition,
Who shall afford us aid? Where shall we find compassion,
But in the church's Head ?. Jesus, thou art all pity,
O take us to thinę arms, And exercise thy mercy,
To save us from all harms, We'll never cease repeating
Our numberless complaints; But ever be intreating
The glorious King of saints : 'Till we attain the image
Of him we inly love;
With all the saints above.
Shall thankfully relate Th' amazing, pleasing story
Of Jesu's love so great : In this blest contemplation
We shall for ever dwell,