3 Content with beholding his face,
My all to his pleasure resign'd;
No changes of season or place
Would make any change in my mind:
While bless'd with a sense of his love,
A palace a toy would appear;
And prisons would palaces prove,
If Jesus would dwell with me there.
4 Dear Lord, if indeed I am thine,
If thou art my sun and my song;
Say, why do I languish and pine,
And why are my winters so long?
O drive these dark clouds from my sky,
Thy soul-cheering presence restore;
Or take me unto thee on high,
Where winter and clouds are no more.
XLVII. The Believer's Safety. Psal. xci.
1 INCARNATE God! the soul that knows
Thy name's mysterious pow'r,
Shall dwell in undisturb'd repose,
Nor fear the trying hour.
2 Thy wisdom, faithfulness, and love,
To feeble helpless worms,
A buckler and a refuge prove
From enemies and storms.
3 In vain the fowler spreads his net,
To draw them from thy care;
Thy timely call instructs their feet
To shun the artful snare.
4 When, like a baneful pestilence,
Sin mows its thousands down
On ev'ry side, without defence,
Thy grace secures thine own.
5 No midnight terrors haunt their bed,
No arrow wounds by day;
Unhurt on serpents they shall tread,
If found in duty's way.
6 Angels, unseen, attend the saints,
And bear them in their arms,
To cheer the spirit when it faints,
And guard the life from harms.
7 The angels' Lord himself is nigh
To them that love his name;
Ready to save them when they cry,
And put their foes to shame.
8 Crosses and changes are their lot,
Long as they sojourn here;
But since their Saviour changes not,
What have the saints to fear?
1 THAT man no guard or weapons needs,
Whose heart the blood of Jesus knows;
But safe may pass, if duty leads,
Through burning sands or mountain-snows.
2 Releas'd from guilt he feels no fear;
Redemption is his shield and tow'r ;
He sees his Saviour always near
To help in ev'ry trying hour.
3 Though I am weak, and Satan strong,
And often to assault me tries;
When Jesus is my shield and song,
Abash'd the wolf before me flies.
4 His love possessing I am blest,
Secure whatever change may come :
Whether I go to east or west,
With him I still shall be at home.
5 If plac'd beneath the northern pole, Though winter reigns with rigour there; His gracious beams would cheer my soul, And make a spring throughout the
6 Or if the desert's sun-burnt soil
My lonely dwelling e'er should prove;
His presence would support my toil,
Whose smile is life, whose voice is love.
XLIX. He led them by a right Way. Psal. cvii. 7.
1 WHEN Israel was from Egypt freed,.
The Lord who brought them out,
Help'd them in ev'ry time of need,
But led them round about.*
2 To enter Canaan soon they hop'd;
But quickly chang'd their mind,
When the Red Sea their passage stopp'd,
And Pharaoh march'd behind.
3 The desert fill'd them with alarms,
For water and for food;
And Amalek, by force of arms,
To check their progress stood.
4 They often murmur'd by the way,
Because they judg'd by sight:
But were at length constrain'd to say,
The Lord had led them right.
5 In the Red Sea, that stopp'd them first,
Their enemies were drown'd;
The rocks gave water for their thirst,
And manna spread the ground.
6 By fire and cloud their way was shown Across the pathless sands;
And Amalek was overthrown
By Moses' lifted hands.
7 The way was right their hearts to prove,
To make God's glory known;
And show his wisdom, pow'r, and love,
Engag'd to save his own.
8 Just so the true believer's path,
Through many dangers lies;
Though dark to sense, 'tis right to faith,
And leads us to the skies.
L. What shall I render?* Psal. cxvi. 12, 13.
1 FOR mercies, countless as the sands,
Which daily I receive
From Jesus my Redeemer's hands,
My soul, what canst thou give?
2 Alas! from such a heart as mine,
What can I bring him forth?
My best is stain'd and dy'd with sin,
My all is nothing worth.
3 Yet this acknowledgement I'll make
For all he has bestow'd,
Salvation's sacred cup I'll take,
And call upon my God.
4 The best returns for one like me,
So wretched and so poor,
Is from his gifts to draw a plea,
And ask him still for more.
5 I cannot serve him as I ought,
No works have I to boast;
Yet would I glory in the thought
That I shall owe him most.
LI. Dwelling in Meseoh. Psal. cxx. 5-7.
1 WHAT a mournful life is mine,
Fill'd with crosses, pains, and cares !
Ev'ry work defil'd with sin,
Ev'ry step beset with snares!
2 If alone I pensive sit,
I myself can hardly bear;
If I pass along the street,
Sin and riot triumph there.
3 Jesus! how my heart is pain'd,
How it mourns for souls deceiv'd,
When I hear thy name profan'd,
When I see thy Spirit griev'd!
4 When thy children's griefs I view,
Their distress becomes my own;
All I hear, or see, or do,
Makes me tremble, weep, and groan.
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