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355. Put on the whole Armour of God. 8.7
GIRD thy loins up, christian soldier,
Lo! thy Captain calls thee out;
Let the danger make thee bolder;
War in weakness: dare in doubt.
Buckle on thy heav'nly armour;
Patch up no inglorious peace;
Let thy courage wax the warmer
As thy foes and fears increase.
Bind thy golden girdle round thee,
Truth to keep thee firm and tight:
Never shall the foe confound thee,
While the truth maintains thy fight.
Righteousness within thee rooted
May appear to take thy part :
But let righteousness imputed
Be the breast-plate of thy heart.
Shod with gospel preparation,
In the paths of promise tread;
Let the hope of free salvation,
As a helmet guard thy head.
When beset with various evils,
Wield the Spirit's two-edg'd sword;
Cut thy way thro' hosts of devils,
While they fall before the Word.
But when dangers closer threaten,
And thy soul draws near to death;
When assaulted sore by Satan,
Then object the shield of faith;
Fiery darts of fierce temptations,
Intercepted by thy God,
There shall lose their force in patience, Sheath'd in love, and quench'd in blood.
Tho' to speak thou be not able,
Always pray, and never rest;
Prayer's a weapon for the feeble;
Weakest souls can wield it best.
Ever on thy captain calling,
Make the worst condition known:
He shall hold thee up from falling,
Or shall lift thee up when down,
356. Encouragement amidst the Storm. 8. MORE Sweet than the nightingale's lays, Are the notes which arise from the heart, When Jesus his mercy displays,
And bids my mis-givings depart.
Thy soul-cheering voice let me hear,
Dear Saviour, again and again;
And when I am sinking with fear,
My sin-burthen'd soul O sustain!
Tho' fearful and feeble I am,
And apt ev'ry moment to slide,
I'll rest on the blood of the Lamb;
Tho' from me his presence he hide,
Himself he can never deny,"
Is an anchor that holds in the storm;
In darkness 'tis here I'd rely,
And wait for the light of the morn.
My strength he again will renew,
Yes, times of refreshing will come!
His promise is faithful and true,
And he will conduct me safe home!
I'VE found the pearl of greatest price,
My heart doth sing for joy;
And sing I must, a Christ I have,
O what a Christ have I!
My Christ, he is the Lord of lords,
He is the King of kings;
He is the sun of righteousness,
With healing in his wings.
Christ is my meat, Christ is my drink,
My physic, and my health;
My peace, my strength, my joy, my crown,
My glory, and my wealth.
Christ is my father, and my friend,
My brother, and my love;
My head, my hope, my counsellor,
My advocate above.
My Christ he is the heav'n of heav'ns,
My Christ what shall I call?
My Christ is first, my Christ is last,
My Christ is all in all.
All glory to the God of love,
One God in Persons Three;
To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
One equal glory be.
358. The One Thing Needful.
WANT not India's pearly shore,
I want the joys of earth no more;
I want to quit each vain delight;
I want to walk with Christ in white.
I want to know my Saviour's love;
I want to fix my heart above ;
I want more grace to conquer sin;
I want to feel new life within,
I want Christ's robe of righteousnes;
I want that bright and glorious dress;
I want to lay my own aside;
I want to fly from legal pride.
I want to lean on Jesu's breast,
And feel him my eternal rest;
I want the Spirit's purging fire;
More faith, more love, to raise me higher.
I want with Jesus to sit down;
I long to wear my heav'nly crown;
I want the kingdom promis'd me;
I want no more, O Christ, but thee!
How hurtful was the choice of Lot,
Who took up his abode
(Because it was a fruitful spot)
With them who fear'd not God!
A pris'ner he was quickly made,
Bereav'd of all his store;
And, but for Abra'am's timely aid,
He had return'd no more.
Yet still he seem'd resolv'd to stay,
As if it were his rest;
Although their sins from day to day
His righteous soul distress'd.
Awhile he stay'd, with anxious mind,
Expos'd to scorn and strife;
At last he left his all behind,
And fled to save his life. In vain his sons-in-law he warn'd, They thought he told his dreams; His daughters, too, of them had learn'd, And perish'd in the flames.
His wife escap'd a little way,
But dy'd for looking back: Does not her case to pilgrims say,
"Beware of growing slack?"
Yea, Lot himself could ling'ring stand,
Though vengeance was in view,
"Twas mercy pluck'd him by the hand,
Or he had perish'd too.