Puslapio vaizdai

Without the Spirit's work within,
Profession's but unhallow'd fire:
A name to live while dead in sin,
That shall in endless night expire.
The church of Jesus, great and small,
Are slumb'ring, yet not dead in sin;
For they shall hear the Master's call,
And with the Bridegroom enter in.

252. Return unto thy Rest, O my

L. M.


WHY, O my soul, art thou dismay'd,
Why in those tents of sorrow groan,
On what have thy fond hopes been stay'd
Still seeking rest, but finding none?
Rest in the promise God hath spoke,
In all things order'd well for thee;
Whose sacred words he'll ne'er revoke,
Nor alter his profound decree.

Rest in the oath that be hath swore,

Firm as his throne the same shall prove; "Twill stand when time shall be no more, And run co-eval with his love.

Rest in the Spirit's work within,
When thou canst read thy intrest there,
In true contrition wrought for sin,
Or fervent love, or filial fear.

Yet still should sorrow tear thy breast,
Thy mind still sinking in despair,
Then in that promise strive to rest
That stands from all conditions clear.

'Tis good to cast an anchor here,
And patient wait, till thou shalt see
Thy hopes for heav'n, more bright and clear,
Blest with a surer prophecy.

Still thou hast sought, but sought in vain,
No rest nor ease thy soul can see;
Yet endless bliss and joys remain,

And everlasting rest for thee.

253. The Lord our Righteousness. L. M.
JESUS, thy blood and righteousness
My beauty are, my glorious dress;
Midst flaming worlds in these array'd,
With joy shall I lift up my head.
When from the dust of earth I rise,
To claim my mansion in the skies,
Ev'n then shall this be all my plea,
"Jesus hath liv'd, hath died, for me."
Bold shall I stand in that great day,
For who aught to my charge shall lay?
Fully through thee absolv'd I am

From sin and fear, from guilt and shame.
Thus Abraham, the friend of God,
Thus all the armies bought with blood,
Saviour of sinners thee proclaim,
Sinners, of whom the chief I am.

This spotless robe the same appears,
When ruin'd nature sinks in years;
age can change its glorious hue,
grace of Christ is ever new.



O let the dead now hear thy voice,
Now bid thy banish'd ones rejoice;
Their beauty this, their glorious dress,
Jesus the Lord our righteousness.

254. Imputed Righteousness. C. M.

FAIR as the moon my robes appear,
While graces are my dress;
Clear as the sun, while found to wear
My Saviour's righteousness.
My moon-like graces, changing much,
Are soil'd with many a spot;
My sun-like glory is not such;
My Saviour changes not.

In him array'd, my robes of light
The morning rays outshine;
The stars of heav'n are not so bright,
Nor angels half so fine.

Though hellish smoke my duties stain,
And sin deform me quite;
The blood of Jesus makes me clean,
And his obedience, whité.

Then let the law in rigour stand,
And for perfection call;

My Lord discharg'd the whole demand,
My surety paid it all.

Let ev'ry high self-righteous thought
Be utterly cast down;

Free-grace alone the work hath wrought,
And grace shall wear the crown.

O may I practically shew

My int'rest in that grace!
Be all I am, and have, and do,
Devoted to thy praise!

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GRACE, how exceeding sweet to those
Who feel they sinners are!

Sunk and distrest, they taste and know
Their heav'n is only there.

Thus grace, free grace, most sweetly calls
Directly come, who will,

Just as you are, for Christ receives
Poor helpless sinners still.

All we who now are his, were first
Deeply convinc'd of sin;

Each felt the plague of his own heart;
The leprosy within:

Then life and righteousness divine,
Through faith were to us giv'n;
Thus we a happy people are,

Co-heirs with Christ of heav'n.
Now, dearest Lord, we inly pray,
That in thy service we
May active, holy, faithful prove,
Deriving strength from thee!

O let us still in thee abide,

For babes we are most weak; Poor sinners still, who without thee, Can nought think, act, or speak.

We thirst, O Lord; give us this day
To taste more of this grace ;

More of that stream which from the rock
Flow'd in the wilderness.

"Tis grace alone that feeds our souls,
Grace keeps us inly poor;

And, oh! that nothing else but grace
May rule us evermore!

256. This Man shall be the Peace.

PEACE, by his cross, hath Jesus made,
The church's everlasting Head;
O'er hell and sin hath vict'ry won,
And, with a shout, to glory gone.
Then why, dejected saint, dost thou
Thy sorrows nurse, thy head thus bow?
Eternal truth declares to thee,

This glorious Man thy Peace shall be.
When o'er thy head the billows roll,
And shades of sin obscure thy soul;
When thou canst no deliv'rance see,
Yet still this Man thy Peace shall be.
In tribulation's thorny maze,
Or on the mount of sov'reign grace,
Or in the fire, or through the sea,
This glorious Man thy Peace shall be.
Yea, when thine eye of faith is dim,
Rest thou on Jesus, sink or swim;
And at his footstool bow the knee,
And Israel's God thy Peace shall be.

L. M.

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