3 The fury of her foes Fulfils but his decree :
Ye saints, on him your hopes repose, And he your strength shall be.
1 OH! Saviour, whom a holy morn, Gave to our world below; To mortal want and labour born, And more than mortal woe.
2 Incarnate Word! by ev'ry grief, By each temptation tried; Who liv'd to yield our ills relief, And to redeem us died.
3 If gaily cloth'd, and proudly fed, In dang'rous wealth we dwell, Remind us of thy manger-bed, And lowly cottage cell.
4 If press'd by poverty severe, În anxious want we pine,
Oh may thy Spirit whisper near, A poorer lot was thine.
5 Through this life's ever-varying scene, From sin preserve us free;
Like as thou hast a mourner been, May we rejoice with thee.
Psalm xlii, 7-9. (c. M.)
1 AFFLICTION is a stormy deep, Where wave resounds to wave;
head the billows roll,
I know the Lord can save.
2 The hand that now withholds my joys, Can yet restore my peace; And he, who bade the tempest roar, Can bid the tempest cease.
3 In the dark watches of the night, I'll count his mercies o'er;
I'll praise him for ten thousand past, And humbly beg for more.
1 LORD! while the nations lay in night, One city shone with holy light;
The good man's joy, the people's theme, It was thine own Jerusalem.
2 Those glorious hours have pass'd away, The gold is dross, the iron clay;
And where thy saints and prophets knelt, For ages have the godless dwelt.
3 They, who were guided by thy hand, Now roam, unblest thro' ev'ry land; Hated and scorn'd, as though they ne'er Had known thy love, or felt thy care.
4 Scatter'd and scourg'd, they wander on, Forget thy law, reject thy Son; Oh let thine anger cease to burn ; Return to them, O God, return!
Psalm cxvi, 12-13. (c. M.)
1 FOR mercies, countless as the sands, Which daily I receive
From Jesus, my Redeemer's hands, My soul, what canst thou give ?
2 Alas! from such a heart as mine, What can I bring him forth? My best is stain'd and dy'd with sin, My all is nothing worth.
3 Yet this acknowledgment I'll make, For all he has bestow'd; Salvation's sacred cup I'll take, And call upon my God.
4 The best return for one like me, So wretched and so poor, Is from his gifts to draw a plea, And ask him still for more.
5 I cannot serve him as I ought, No works have I to boast; Yet would I glory in the thought, That I shall owe him most.
Hebrews iv, 8-9. (7's sixes.)
1 SOON, too soon, the sweet repose, Of this day of God will cease;
Soon this glimpse of heaven will close; Vanish soon the hours of peace; Soon return the toil, the strife, All the weariness of life.
2 But the rest which yet remains For thy people, Lord, above,
Knows nor change, nor fears, nor pains, Endless as their Saviour's love:
O may every sabbath here,
Bring us to that rest more near!
Genesis xix, 17. (L. M.)
1 MY God! and can I linger still, With coward heart and wav'ring will, Loth from my sins to be set free, Still loth to give myself to thee? 2 My Maker! whose creative word, Being, with all its powers, conferr'd; I hold my all from thee alone, Shall I not render thee thine own?
3 My Saviour! who didst drink for me The bitter cup of agony;
Can I so long ungrateful prove,
To suff'ring, dying, pard'ning love?
4 Spirit of life! whose voice within, Oft warns my conscious soul of sin, Still shall my heart to thee be clos'd, And thou still griev'd, and still oppos'd? 5 But is there mercy, Lord, with thee? And hope for me? Yes, e'en for me! And canst thou, wilt thou, yet forgive, And look on me, and bid me live?
6 O great, our highest thoughts above, Untold, unfathomable love;
Lord, I with joy thy word receive, And love, and wonder, and believe.
214 1 John iii, 3-Philippians i, 21–23. (L. M.)
1 LET me be with thee, where thou art, My Saviour, my eternal rest;
Then only will this longing heart Be fully and for ever blest.
2 Let me be with thee, where thou art, Thy unveil'd glory to behold; Then only will this wand'ring heart, Cease to be false to thee, and cold.
3 Let me be with thee, where thou art, Where spotless saints thy name adore; Then only will this sinful heart, Be evil and defil'd no more.
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