Imatges de pÓgina


C. M.

Med field. Bether.
DEAR Saviour! when my thoughts recall

The wonders of thy grace,
Low at thy feet, ashamed, I fall,

And hide this wretched face.
2 Shall love like thine be thus repaid ?

Ah! vile, ungrateful heart !
By earth's low cares detained-betrayed

From Jesus to depart:
3 From Jesus-who alone can give

True pleasure, peace, and rest :
When absent from my Lord, I live

Unsatisfied, unblest.
4 But he, for his own mercy's sake,

My wandering soul restores:
He bids the mourning heart partake

The pardon it implores.
5 Oh! while I breathe to thee, my Lord,

The humble, contrite sigh,
Confirm the kind, forgiving word,

With pity in thine eye!
6 Then shall the mourner at thy feet

Rejoice to seek thy face;
And, grateful, own how kind-how sweet

Is thy forgiving grace. 283

78. Norwich. Pleyel's Hymn.
DEPTII of mercy can there be
Mercy still reserved for nie!
Can my God his wrath forbear?
Me, the chief of sinners spare?
2 I have long withstood his grace;
Long provoked him to his face ;
Would not bear his gracious calls;
Grieved him by a thousand falls.
3 Yet how great his mercies are !
Me he still delights to spare;
Cries—" How shall I give thee up ?”
Lets the lifted thunder drop.
4 Jesus, answer from above :
Is not all thy nature love?
Wilt thou not the wrong forget ? -
Lo, I fall before thy feet.

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5 Now incline me to repent!
Let me now my fall lament!
Deeply my revolt deplore!
Weep, believe, and sin no more.

C. M. Wachusett. Lebanon. 284 Sins bewailed as causing the Death of Christ.

OH, if my soul was formed for wo,

How would I vent my sighs!
Repentance should like rivers flow

From both my streaming eyes.
2 'Twas for my sins my dearest Lord

Hung on the cursed tree,
And groaned away a dying life,

For thee, my soul, for thee.
3 Oh, how I hate those Justs of mine,

That crucified my Lord;
Those sins, that pierced and nailed his flesh

Fast to the fatal wood!
f4 Yes, my Redeemer-they shall die

My heart has so decreed;
Nor will I spare the guilty things

That made my Saviour bleed.
р 5 While with a melting, broken heart,

My murdered Lord I view-
f I'll raise revenge against my sins,
And slay the murderers too.
C. M.

Grafton. Medfeld. 285

Self-righteous Hopes renounced.
VAIN are the hopes the sons of men

On their own works have built ;
Their hearts hy nature all unclean,

And all their actions guilt.
2 Let Jew and Gentile stop their mouth,

Without a murmuring word;
Let all the race of man confess

Their guilt before the Lord.
3 In vain we ask God's righteous law

To justify us now;
Since to convince, and to condemn

Is all the law can do.
4 Jesus, how glorious is thy grace !

When in thy name we trust,
Our faith receives a righteousness

That makes the sinner just.


L. M

Uxbridge. Albreton.
NO more, my God-I boast no more

Of all the duties I have done;
I quit the hopes I held before,

To trust the merits of thy Son.
2 Now, for the love I bear his name,

What was my gain, I count my loss;
My former pride I call my shame,

And nail my glory to his cross.
3 Yes-and I must and will esteem

All things but loss for Jesus' sake;
Oh! may my soul be found in him,

And of his righteousness partake.
4 The best obedience of my hands

Dares not appear before thy throne;
But faith can answer thy demands,
By pleading what my Lord has done.

C. M. 287

Spencer. Grafton.
Pardon implored.
PROSTRATE, dear Jesus, at thy feet,

A guilty rebel lies;
And upwards to thy mercy-seat

Presumes to lift his eyes.
2 If tears of sorrow would suffice

To pay the debt I owe,
Tears should from both my weeping eyes

In ceaseless torrents flow,
3 But no such sacrifice I plead

To expiate my guilt;
No tears, but those which thou hast shed

No blood, but thou hast spilt.
4 I plead thy sorrows, dearest Lord ;

Do thou my sins forgive :
Thy justice will approve the word

That bids the sinner live. 288

L. M. 61. Salisbury. Dresden.
FATHER of mercies-God of love!

Oh! hear a humble suppliant's cry;
Bend from thy lofty seat above,

Thy throne of glorious majesty :
Oh! deign to hear my mournful voice,
And bid my drooping heart rejoice.

2 I urge no merits of my own,

No worth, to claim thy gracious smile :
No-when Í bow before thy throne-

Dare to converse with God awhile
Thy name, blest Jesus, is my plea-
Dearest and sweetest name to me!
3 Father of mercies-God of love!

Then hear thy humble suppliant's cry ;
Bend from thy lofty seat above,

Thy throne of glorious majesty :
One pardoning word can make me whole,

And soothe the anguish of my soul. 289

L. M. Alfreton. Uxbridge.
AWAKED from sin's delusive sleep,
My heavy guilt I feel, and weep:
Beneath a weight of woes oppressed,
I come to thee, my Lord, for rest.
2 Now, from thy throne of bliss above,
Shed down a look of heavenly love ;
That balm shall sweeten all my pain,
And bid my soul rejoice again.
3 By thy divine, transforming power,
My ruined nature now restore;
And let my life and temper shine,

In blest resemblance, Lord, to thine. 290

C. M.

Spencer. Grafton.
LORD, I approach the mercy-seat,

Where thou dost answer prayer ;
There humbly fall before thy feet,

For none can perish there.
2 Thy promise is my only plea ;

With this I venture nigh;
Thou callest burdened souls to thee,

And such, O Lord, am I.
3 Bowed down beneath a load of sin,

By Satan sorely pressed,
By war without, and fear within,

I conie to thee for rest.
mf 4 Be thou my shield and hiding-place ;

That, sheltered near thy side,
I may my fierce accuser face,

And tell him--thou hast died.

5 Oh wondrous love to bleed and die,

To bear the cross and shame,
That guilty sinners, such as I,

Might plead thy gracious name. 291

S. M. Boxford. Dartmouth.
THOU Lord of all above,

And all below the sky,
Prostrate before thy feet I fall,

And for thy mercy cry.
2 Forgive my follies past,

The crimes which I have done ;
Oh hid a contrite sinner live,

Through thine incarnate Son.
3 Guilt, like a heavy load,

Upon my conscience lies;
To thee I make my sorrows known,

And lift my weeping eyes.
4 The burden which I feel,

Thou only canst remove;
Do thou display thy pardoning grace,

And thine unbounded love.
5 One gracious look of thine

Will ease my troubled breast:
Oh! let me know my sins forgiven,
And I shall then be blest.

C. M. Eastport. Lebanon. 292

Absence from God deprecated.
OH thou, whose tender mercy hears

Contrition's humble sigh;
Whose hand indulgent wipes the tears

From sorrow's weeping eye ;-
2 See, Lord, before thy throne of grace,

A wretched wanderer mourn:
Hast thou not bid me seek thy face?

Hast thou not said Return'?
3 And shall my guilty fears prevail

To drive me from thy feet?
Oh ! let not this dear refuge fail,

This only safe retreat.
4 Absent from thee, my Guide! my Light!

Without one cheering ray,
Through dangers, fears, and gloomy night,

How desolate my way!

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