Imatges de pàgina
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4 These-and every secret fault,
Filled with grief and shame, we own.
Humbled at thy feet we lie,

Seeking pardon from thy throne!
5 God of mercy! God of grace!
Hear our sad, repentant songs,
Oh restore thy suppliant race,
Thou, to whom our praise belongs!

280

C. P. M.

The Penitent surrendering.

Aithlone

1 LORD, thou hast won-at length I yield;
My heart, by mighty grace compelled,
Surrenders all to thee:

Against thy terrors long I strove,
But who can stand against thy love?—
Love conquers even me.

2 If thou hadst bid thy thunders roll,
And lightnings flash to blast my soul,
I still had stubborn been:
But mercy has my heart subdued,
A bleeding Saviour I have viewed,
And now, I hate my sin.

mf 3 Now, Lord, I would be thine alone;
Come, take possession of thine own,
For thou hast set me free;

281

mf

Released from Satan's hard command,
See all my powers in waiting stand,
To be employed by thee.

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Repentance in View of Christ's Compassion.
1 DID Christ o'er sinners weep,

And shall our cheeks be dry?
Let floods of penitential grief
Burst forth from every eye.

2 The Son of God in tears

The wondering angels see!
Be thou astonished, Ŏ my soul!
He shed those tears-for thee.
3 He wept-that we might weep-
Each sin demands a tear ;-
In heaven alone no sin is found,
And there's no weeping there.

282

C. M.

Medfield. Bether

1 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;

283

And, grateful, own how kind-how sweet
Is thy forgiving grace.

78. Norwich. Pleyel's Hymn

1 DEPTH of mercy!-can there be
Mercy still reserved for me!
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 hear 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.

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.
1 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 lusts of mine,
That crucified my Lord;

Those sins, that pierced and nailed his flesh
Fast to the fatal wood!

f 4 Yes, my Redeemer-they shall die-
My heart has so decreed;

P

f

Nor will I spare the guilty things
That made my Saviour bleed.

5 While with a melting, broken heart,
My murdered Lord I view-
I'll raise revenge against my sins,
And slay the murderers too.

285

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Self-righteous Hopes renounced.

1 VAIN are the hopes the sons of men
On their own works have built;
Their hearts by 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.

mf 4 Jesus, how glorious is thy grace!———
When in thy name we trust,

Our faith receives a righteousness
That makes the sinner just.

286

L. M.

Uxbridge. Alfreton
1 NO more, my God-1 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, 1 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

287

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

C. M.

Pardon implored.

1 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:

288

Thy justice will approve the word,
That bids the sinner live.

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1 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 I 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,

289

Thy throne of glorious majesty:

One pardoning word can make me whole,
And soothe the anguish of my soul.

L. M.

Alfreton. Uxbridge.
1 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
1 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 come to thee for rest.

mf 4 Be thou my shield and hiding-place;

I

That, sheltered near thy side,

inay my fierce accuser face,

And tell him-thou hast died.

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