Imatges de pÓgina
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C. M.


Jesus alone deserves my heart,

And every thought of love.
2 His heart, where love and pity dwelt

In all their softest forms,
Sustained the heavy load of guilt

For lost, rebellious worms.
3 Can I my bleeding

Saviour view,
And yet ungrateful prove?
And pierce his wounded heart anew,

And grieve his injured love ?
4 Dear Lord, forbid !-oh! bind this heart-
This roying,

heart of mine-
So firm, that it may ne'er depart,

In chains of love divine.

Covington. Rye. 1 DO not I love thee, O my Lord ?

Behold my heart, and see:
And turn each worthless idol out,

That dares to rival thee.
2 Do not I love thee from my soul ?-

Then let me nothing love:
Dead be my heart to every joy,

Which thou dost not approve.
3 Is not thy name melodious still

To mine attentive ear?
Doth not each pulse with pleasure beat

My Saviour's voice to hear?
4 Hast thou a lamb in all thy flock,

I would disdain to feed ?
Hast thou a foe, before whose face

I fear thy cause to plead ?
5 Thou know'st I love thee, O my Lord,

But yet I long to soar
Far from the sphere of mortal joys,

That I may love thee more.

Mansfield. Eustis. 1 BLEST Jesus! when my soaring thoughts

O'er all thy graces rove,
How is my soul in transport lost-

In wonder, joy, and love!
2 Not softest strains can charm my ears,

Like thy beloved name ;


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C. M.


k. Barby,


Nor aught beneath the skies inspire

My heart with equal flame.
3 Where'er I look, my wondering eyes

Unnumbered blessings see;,
But what is life, with all its bliss,

If once compared with thee?
4 Hast thou a rival in my breast ?

Search, Lord—for thou canst tell
If aught can raise my passions thus,

Or please my soul so well.
| 5 No-thou art precious to my heart

My portion and my joy:
Forever let thy boundless grace

My sweetest thoughts employ.



C. M. Corinth. Chesterfield. 174

Christ precious.
dol 1 JESUS, I love thy charming name;

'Tis music to my ear;
Fain would I sound it out so loud,

That earth and heaven might hear.
2 What'er my noblest powers can wish

In thee doth richly meet;
Not to mine eyes is light so dear,

Nor friendship half so sweet.
mf 3 Thy grace still dwells upon my heart,

And sheds its fragrance there ;
The noblest balm of all its wounds,

The cordial of its care !
4 I'll speak the honors of thy name,

With my last laboring breath ;
Then, speechless, clasp thee in mine arms,

And trust thy love in death.
dol 1 THOU lovely source of true delight,

Whom I unseen adore ;
Unvail thy beauties to my sight,

That I may love thee more.
2 Thy glory o'er creation shines;

But in thy sacred word
I read, in fairer, brighter lines,

My bleeding-dying Lord.


C. M.

Litchfield. Dundee.




C. M.

3 'Tis here, whene'er my comforts droop,

And sins and sorrow's rise-
Thy love, with cheering beams of hope,

My fainting heart supplies.
4 But ah! too soon the pleasing scene

Is clouded o'er with pain;
My gloomy fears rise dark between,

And I again complain.
mil 5 Jesus, my Lord-my life—my light,

Oh! come with blissful ray;
Break through the gloomy shades of night,

And chase my fears away.
6 Then shall my soul with rapture trace

The wonders of thy love:
Then shall see thy glorious face

In endless joy above. 176

Franklin. Howard'a.
I THOU blest Redeemer, dying Lamb!

We love to hear of thee;
No music like thy charming name,

Nor half so dear can be.
2 Oh may we ever hear thy voice!

In mercy to us speak!
In thee, O Lord, let us rejoice,

And thy salvation seek.
3 Jesus shall ever be our theme,

While in this world we stay ;
We'll sing of Jesus' lovely name,

When all things else decay.
4 When we appear in yonder cloud,

With all his favored throng,
Then will we sing more sweet, more loud,

And Christ shall be our song. 177

Bath. Danvers. 1 JESUS! in whom but thee above

Can I repose my trust, my love ?
And shall an earthly object be

Loved in comparison with thee?
2 How soon, O Lord, will life decay!

How soon this world will pass away!
Ah! what can mortal friends avail,
When heart, and strength, and life shall fail?

L. M.

3 Oh! then be thou, my Saviour, nigh,

And I will triumph while I die;
My strength, my portion, is divine,
And Jesus is forever mine!

C. M.

Mansfield. Bedford. 178

Indebtedness to Christ.
1 TO thee, my Shepherd, and my Lord,

A grateful song I'll raise ;
Oh! let the feeblest of thy flock

Attempt to speak thy praise.
2 But how shall mortal tongue express

A subject so divine ?
Do justice to so vast a theme,

Or praise a love like thine ?
3 My life, my joy, my hope, I owe

To this amazing love;
Ten thousand thousand comforts here,

And nobler bliss above.
4 To thee my trembling spirit flies,

With sin and grief oppressed ;
Thy gentle voice dispels my fears,

And lulls my cares to rest.
[ 5 Lead on, dear Shepherd !-led by thee,

No evil shall I fear;
Soon shall I reach thy fold above,

And praise thee better there. 179

Medfield. Dundee. 1 JESUS! to thy celestial light,

My dawn of hope I owe;
Once wandering in the shades of night,

And lost in helpless wo.
2 Thy gracious hand redeemed the slave,

And set the prisoner free:
Be all I am-and all I have,

Devoted, Lord, to thee.
3 Here at thy feet I wait thy will,

And live upon thy word :
Oh! give me warmer love and zeal,

To serve my dearest Lord. 180

St. Martin's. Nottingham. 1 AND why do our admiring eyes

These gospel glories see?

C. M.

C. M.

And whence-doth every heart reply

Salvation sent to me?
2 And dost thou, Lord, subdue my heart,

And show my sins forgiven ?
And bear thy witness to my part

Among the heirs of heaven?
3 Redeemed by thee, most gracious Lord,

We'll sing our Saviour's name;
And while the long salvation lasts,

Its sovereigu power proclaim.

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L. M. Timsbury. Arnheim. 181

Not ashamed of Christ.
1 JESUS! and shall it ever be

A mortal man ashamed of thee?
Ashamed of thee-whom angels praise ?

Whose glories shine through endless days? 2 Ashamed of Jesus ?--that dear friend

On whom my hopes of heaven depend ?
No!when I blush, be this my shame-

That I no more revere his name.
3 Ashamed of Jesus ?-yes, I may,

When I've no guilt to wash away-
No tear to wipe--no good to crave,

No fears to quell-no soul to save!
4 Till then-nor is my boasting vain-

Till then, I boast a Saviour slain !
And oh! may this my glory be-

That Christ is not ashamed of me!

C. M. Westmoreland. Colchester. 1 I'M not ashamed to own my Lord,

Or to defend his cause;
Maintain the honor of his word,

The glory of his cross.
2 Jesus, my God !-I know his name-

His name is all my trust;
Nor will be put my soul to shame,

Nor let my hope be lost.
3 Firm as his throne-his promise stands,

And he can well secure
What I've committed to his hands,

Till the decisive hour.





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