And gaze, transported at the fight,
To all eternity.
HYMN XVII.
JESUS, if fill the fame thou art,
If all thy promises are sure,
Set up thy kingdom in my heart,
And make me rich, for I am poor: To me be all thy treasures giv'n, The kingdom of an inward heav'n.
2 Thou haft pronounc'd the mourners bleft, And, lo! for thee I ever mourn :
I cannot, no, I will not reft,
Till thou my only reft return :
Till thou the Prince of peace, appear,
And I receive the Comforter.
3 Where is the bleffednefs bestow'd
On all that hunger after thee?
I hunger now, I thirft for God!
See, the poor fainting finner fee:
And fatisfy with endless peace,
And fill me with thy right'ousness.
4 Ah, Lord, if thou art in that figh,
Then hear thyfelf within me pray ;
Hear in my heart thy Spirit's cry,
Mark, what my lab'ring foul would say:
Answer the deep unutter'd groan,
And fhew, that thou and I are one.
Shine on thy work, difperfe the gloom;
Light in thy light I then shall see;
Say to my foul, Thy light is come,
Glory divine is ris'n on thee:
"Thy warfare's paft, thy mourning's o'er: "Look up, for thou shalt weep no more.'
6 Lord, I believe thy promise fure,
And truft thou wilt not long delay:
Hungry, and forrowful, and poor,
Upon thy word myself I ftay:
Into thy hands my all refign,
And wait till all thou art is mine.
As yesterday the fame,
Prefent to heal, in me difplay
The virtue of thy name.
2. If ftill thou go'ft about to do
Thy needy creatures good;
On me, that I thy praise may show,
Be all thy wonders show'd.
3 Now, Lord, to whom for help I call,
Thy miracles repeat;
With pitying eyes behold me fall
A leper at thy feet.
4 Loathfome, and foul, and felf-abhorr'd, I fink beneath my fin;
But if thou wilt, a gracious word
Of thine, can make me clean.
5 Thou feeft me deaf to thy commands,
Open, O Lord, my ear:
Bid me ftretch out my wither'd hands,
And lift them up in pray'r.
6 Silent (alas! thou know'ft how long)
My voice I cannot raife;
But, O! when thou fhalt loofe my tongue
The dumb fhall fing thy praife.
7 Lame at the pool I ftill am found:
Give, and my strength employ ;
Light as a hart I then fhall bound,
The lame shall leap for joy.
8 Blind from my birth to guilt and thee,
And dark I am within ;
The love of God I cannot fee,
Nor finfulness of fin.
9 But thou, they fay, art paffing by,
O let me find thee near!
Jefus, in mercy, hear my cry,
Thou fon of David, hear!
10 Long have I waited in the way
For thee, the heav'nly light;
Command me to be brought, and say,
"Sinner, receive thy fight."
Let me to thy bofom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempeft still is high;
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the ftorm of life is paft
Safe into the haven guide,
O receive my foul at last !
2 Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless foul on thee;
с
Leave, ah! leave me not alone,
Still fupport and comfort me!
All my truft on thee is ftay'd,
All my help from thee I bring,
Cover my defenceless head
With the fhadow of thy wing.
3 Thou, O Chrift, art all I want,
More than all in thee I find
Raife the fallen, cheer the faint,
Heal the fick and lead the blind:
Juft and holy is thy name;
I am all unrighteousness;
Falfe and full of fin I am,
Thou art full of truth and grace.
4 Plenteous grace with thee is found,
Grace to cover all my fin,
Let the healing ftreams abound,
Make and keep me pure within
Thou of life the fountain art,
Freely let me take of thee;
Spring thou up within my heart,
Rife to all eternity!
LOVE divine, how sweet thou art! When fhall I find my willing heart, All taken up by thee?
I thirst, I faint, I die, to prove
The greatness of redeeming love,
The love of Chrift to me!
2 Stronger his love than death or hell,
Its riches are unfearchable;
The first born fons of light,
Defire in vain its depths to fee;
They cannot reach the mystery,
The length, and breadth, and height.
3 God only knows the love of God;
O that it now were shed abroad
In this poor ftony heart!
For love I figh, for love I pine;
This only portion, Lord, be mine!
Be mine this better part!
4 O that I could forever fit,
With Mary at the Master's feet!
Be this my happy choice;
My only care, delight, and blifs,
My joy, my heav'n on earth be this,
To hear the Bridegroom's voice!
5 O that I could, with favour'd John,
Recline my weary head upon
The dear Redeemer's breaft:
From care, and fin, and forrow free,
Give me, O Lord, to find in thee
My everlafting reft!
whither fhall I go,
A Burden'd, and fick, and faint?
To whom should I my trouble fhow,
And pour out my complaint?
My Saviour bids me come,
Ah! why do I delay?
He calls the weary finner home;
And yet from him I ftay.
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