NEHEMIAH. XLII. The Joy of the Lord is your Strength. Chap. viii. 10. 1 Joy is a fruit that will not grow In nature's barren soil; All we can boast, till Christ we know, 2 But where the Lord has planted grace, Are found, and there alone. peace 3 A bleeding Saviour seen by faith, 4 To take a glimpse within the vail, 5 These are the joys which satisfy, Which make the spirit mount on high, 6 No more, believers, mourn your lot; Resign to them that know him not JOB. XLIII. Oh that I were as in months past! Chap. xxix. 2. 1 SWEET was the time when first I felt 2 Soon as the morn the light reveal'd, And when the ev'ning shades prevail'd, A 3 In vain the tempter spread his wiles, 4 In pray'r my soul drew near the Lord, 5 Then to his saints I often spoke, 6 Now when the ev'ning shade prevails, 7 My pray'rs are now a chatt'ring noise, 1 read, the promise meets my eyes, 8 Now Satan threatens to prevail, XLIV. The Change. 1 SAVIOUR, shine and cheer my soul, 2 Shall I sigh and pray in vain, 3 Once I thought my mountain strong, "Beware, 4 When my friends have said, "Soon or late you'll find a change;" I could see no cause for fear, Vain their caution seem'd and strange: Not a cloud obscur'd my sky, Could I think a tempest nigh? * Book ii. Hymn 34. and Book iii. Hymn 86. 5 Little then myself I knew, Little thought of Satan's pow'r : 6 Satan asks and mocks my woe, Let him know I'm bought with blood: Tell him, since I know thy name, Though I change, thou art the same. PSALMS. XLV. Pleading for Mercy. Psal. vi. 1 IN mercy, not in wrath, rebuke 2 Have mercy, Lord, for I am weak, 3 By day, my busy beating head I 4 Thus I sit desolate and mourn, Mine eyes grow dull with grief: How long, my Lord, ere thou return, And bring my soul relief? 5 O come and show thy pow'r to save, 6 Satan, my cruel envious foe, He smiles to see me brought so low, 7 But hence, thou enemy, depart, My Saviour comes to cheer my heart, XLVI. None upon Earth I desire beside thee. 1 How tedious and tasteless the hours, When Jesus no longer I see; Sweet prospects, sweet birds, and sweet flow'rs, Have lost all their sweetness with me; The midsummer sun shines but dim, The fields strive in vain to look gay; 2 His name yields the richest perfume, My summer would last all the year. |