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Oh, Thou, the wretched's sure retreat,
These torturing cares control;
Revive my faintiny soul.
Oppress’d with grief and shame, dissolv'd
In penitential tears,
And dissipates our fears.
New life from Thy refreshing grace
Our sinking hearts receive,
Oh! sweet is morn's first breeze that strays on the
mountain, And sighs o'er its bosom, and murmurs away ; And bright is the beam which upsprings from day's
fountain, And breaks o'er the East in its golden array ;
And lovely the riv'let incessantly flowing,
But sweeter, my God, is Thy voice of compassion,
O yes! I have known it, when kindly and cheering,
'Tis the still voice of Him who expir’d on the mountain,
That voice, O believer! shall cheer and protect thee, When the cold chill of death thy frail bosom invades; At its sound shall the Day-star arise and direct thee, And gild with refulgence the valley of shades.
O, for that tenderness of heart
Which bows before the Lord ;
And trembling at Thy word !
O, for those humble, contrite tears,
Which from repentance flow !
The long-suspended blow.
Saviour, to me, in pity, give
The sensible distress ;
My soul before Thee prostrate lies ;
To Thee, her source, my spirit flies ; My wants I mourn, my chains I see,
O let Thy presence visit me!
Lost and undone, for aid I cry,
In Thy death, Saviour, let me die ! Grieved with Thy grief, pained with Thy pain,
Ne'er may I feel self-love again. Jesus, vouchsafe my heart and will,
With Thy meek lowliness to fill ; No more her power let Nature boast,
But in Thy will let mine be lost.
One only care my soul would know,
Father, all Thy commands to do ; Ah! deep engrave it on my breast,
That man in Thee alone is blest.
Lo here an open page,
Written in balm, sad heart, for thee.
As Israel's crowned mourner felt
The dull hard stone within him melt. The Absolver saw the mighty grief,
And hasten'd with relief ;• The Lord forgives; thou shalt not die :"'Twas gently spoke, yet heard on high,
And all the band of angels, us’d to sing
To the glad mournful sound,
The broken heart to love's embrace.
And holy music, whispering peace
Did Christ o'er sinners weep,
And shall our cheeks be dry ?
Burst forth from every eye.
The Son of God in tears,
The wondering angels see !
He shed those tears for thee.
He wept that we might weep.
Each sin demands a tear ;
And there's no weeping there.
Now to Thine altar, Lord,
A broken heart I bring;
Of such a worthless thing!
To Christ, the bleeding Lamb,
But not His sacrifice.
That moment He expired,
The law was satisfied ;
I answer, “ Jesus died.”
Speak, my Saviour, speak to me,
With divine effectual powerWeeping, I look up to Thee
Bid me “ go and sin no more.”
Thou art full of pardoning love,
Thou canst grant what I implore ; Now Thy pitying mercy prove,
Bid me “ go and sin no more.” Thou upbraidest not Thy child;
Deeply I the past deplore, Now with gracious accents mild,
Bid me “ go and sin no more.”
Nothing can I see but sin,
It has tainted my heart's core ; There it spreads without, within,
Can I “ go and sin no more ?"
'Tis for man too hard a task,
But Thou canst my soul restore;
“ Invalid's Hymn Book.”