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,
Is vanity and toil.

2 But where the Lord has planted grace,
And made his glories known,
There fruits of heav'nly joy and

Are found, and there alone.

peace

3 A bleeding Saviour seen by faith,
A sense of pard'ning love,
A hope that triumphs over death,
Give joys like those above.

4 To take a glimpse within the vail,
To know that God is mine,
Are springs of joy that never fail,
Unspeakable! divine!

5 These are the joys which satisfy,
And sanctify, the mind;

Which make the spirit mount on high,
And leave the world behind.

6 No more, believers, mourn your lot;
But if you are the Lord's,

Resign to them that know him not
Such joys as earth affords.

JOB.

XLIII. Oh that I were as in months past! Chap. xxix. 2.

1 SWEET was the time when first I felt
The Saviour's pard'ning blood
Apply'd, to cleanse my soul from guilt,
And bring me home to God.

2 Soon as the morn the light reveal'd,
His praises tun'd my tongue;

And when the ev'ning shades prevail'd,
His love was all my song.

A

3 In vain the tempter spread his wiles,
The world no more could charm;
I liv'd upon my Saviour's smiles,
And lean'd upon his arm.

4 In pray'r my soul drew near the Lord,
And saw his glory shine;
And when I read his holy word,
I call'd each promise mine.

5 Then to his saints I often spoke,
Of what his love had done;
But now my heart is almost broke,
For all my joys are gone.

6 Now when the ev'ning shade prevails,
My soul in darkness mourns;
And when the morn the light reveals,
No light to me returns.

7 My pray'rs are now a chatt'ring noise,
For Jesus hides his face;

1 read, the promise meets my eyes,
But will not reach my case.

8 Now Satan threatens to prevail,
And make my soul his prey :
Yet, Lord, thy mercies cannotf il,
O come without delay!

XLIV. The Change.

1 SAVIOUR, shine and cheer my soul,
Bid my dying hopes revive;
Make my wounded spirit whole,
Far away the tempter drive:
Speak the word, and set me free,
Let me live alone to thee.

2 Shall I sigh and pray in vain,
Wilt thou still refuse to hear?
Wilt thou not return again,
Must I yield to black despair?
Thou hast taught my heart to pray,
Canst thou turn thy face away?

3 Once I thought my mountain strong,
Firmly fix'd no more to move;
Then thy grace was all my song,
Then my soul was fill'd with love;
Those were happy golden days,
Sweetly spent in pray'r and praise.

"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 :
Now I find their words were true,
Now I feel the stormy hour!
Sin has put my joys to flight,
Sin has chang'd my day to night.

6 Satan asks and mocks my woe,
"Boaster, where is now your God?"
Silence, Lord, this cruel foe,

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
Thy feeble worm, my God!
My spirit dreads thine angry look,
And trembles at thy rod.

2 Have mercy, Lord, for I am weak,
Regard my heavy groans :
O let thy voice of comfort speak,
And heal my broken bones!

3 By day, my busy beating head
Is fill'd with anxious fears;
By night upon my restless bed,
weep a flood of tears.

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,
And spare my fainting breath;
For who can praise thee in the grave,
Or sing thy name in death?

6 Satan, my cruel envious foe,
Insults me in my pain;

He smiles to see me brought so low,
And tells me hope is vain.

7 But hence, thou enemy, depart,
Nor tempt me to despair;

My Saviour comes to cheer my heart,
The Lord has heard my pray'r.

XLVI. None upon Earth I desire beside thee.
Psal. lxxiii. 25.

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;
But when I am happy in him,
December's as pleasant as May.

2 His name yields the richest perfume,
And sweeter than music his voice;
His presence disperses my gloom,
And makes all within me rejoice:
I should, were he always thus nigh,
Have nothing to wish or to fear;
No mortal so happy as I,

My summer would last all the year.