LII. S. M. WATTS'S LYRIC POEMS,
Confession and Pardon. MY sorrows like a flood, Impatient of restraint,
Into thy bosom, O my God, Pour out a long complaint. 2 This impious heart of mine Could once defy the Lord, Could rush with violence on to sin, In presence of thy sword. 3 How often have I stood A rebel to the skies,
And yet, and yet, (O matchless grace!) Thy thunder silent lies.
4 O shall I never feel
The meltings of thy love?
Am I of such hell-harden'd steel That mercy cannot move?
3 O'ercome by dying love,
Here at thy cross I lie
And throw my flesh, my soul, my all, And weep, and love, and die. "Rise," says the Saviour, "rise, "Behold my wounded veins; "Here flows a sacred crimson flood, "To wash away thy stains." 7. See, Justice reconcil'd!
Behold God's smiling face! Let joyful cherubs clap their wings And sound aloud his grace.
LIII. C. M. DODDRIDGE. Pardon spoken by Christ. Mat. ix. 2. Y Saviour, let me hear thy voice Pronounce the words of of peace i
And all my warmest powers shall join To celebrate thy grace.
2 With gentle smiles call me thy child, And speak my sins forgiv'n;
The accents mild shall charm mine eac All like the harps of heaven.
3 Cheerful, where'er thy hand shall lead, The darkest path I'll tread; Cheerful I'll quit these mortal shores, And mingle with the dead.
4 When dreadful guilt is done away, No other fears we know;
That hand which scatters pardons down, Shall crowns of life bestow.
LIV. L. M. STOGDON.
God ready to forgive; or, despair sinful.
THAT mean these jealousies and fears, As if the Lord were loth to save, Or lov'd to see us drench'd in tears,
And sink with sorrow to the grave?
2 Does he want slaves to grace his throne? Or rules he by an iron rod? Loves he the deep despairing groan? Is he a tyrant, or a God?
3 Not all the sins, which we have wrought So much his tender bowels grieve, As this unkind, injurious thought, That he's unwilling to forgive,
4 What though our crimes are black as night, Or glowing like the crimson morn, Immanuel's blood will make us white As driven snow through æther borne.
5 Lord, 'tis amazing grace we own, And well may rebel worms surprise, But was not thy incarnate Son
A most amazing sacrifice?
"I've found a ransom," saith the lord, "No real penitent shall die;" Lord, we would now believe thy word, And thy unbounded mercies try! SALVATION.
LV. C. M. RIPPON'S SELEC.
Complete Salvation.
ALVATION through our dying God Is finish'd and complete;
He paid whate'er his people ow'd, And cancell'd all their debt.
2 Salvation now shall be my stay, "A sinner sav'd,” I'll cry, Then gladly quit this mortal clay, For better joys on high.
LVI. C. M. DODDRIDGE.
O Lord, say unto my soul, I am thy Salvation!
ALVATION! O melodious sound
To wretched dying men!
Salvation, that from God proceeds, And leads to God again.
2 Rescu'd from hell's eternal gloom, From fiends, and fires, and chains: Rais'd to a paradise of bliss,
Where love triumphant reigns. 3. But may a poor bewilder'd soul, Sinful and weak as mine,
Presume to raise a trembling eye To blessings so divine?
The lustre of so bright a bliss,
My feeble heart o'erbears; And unbelief almost perverts The promise into 'cars.
5 My Saviour God, no voice but thine These dying hopes can raise: Speak thy salvation to my soul, And turn my prayer to praise. COMMUNION WITH GOD. LVIR L. M. BEDDOME. Desiring Communion with God.
MY rising soul, with strong desires, To perfect happiness aspires- With steady steps would tread the road That leads to heav'n, that leads to God. I thirst to drink unmingled love, From the pure fountain-head above: My dearest Lord, I long to be
Empty'd of sin, and full of the.
For thee I pant, for thee I burn, Art thou withdrawn? again return, Nor let me be the first to say,
Thou wilt not hear when sinners pray.
LVIII. C. M. COWPER. Walking with God. Gen. v. 24,
FOR a closer walk with God, A calm and heavenly frame; A light to shine upon the road That leads me to the lamb!
2 Where is the blessedness I knew When first I saw the Lord ? Where is the soul-refreshing view Of Jesus, and his word?
3 What peaceful hours I then enjoy'd? How sweet their mem❜ry still! But now I find an aching void, The world can never fill.
4 Return, O holy Dove, return, Sweet messenger of rest!
I hate the sins that made thee mourn And drove thee from my breast. The dearest idol I have known, Whate'er that idol be,
Help me to tear it from thy throne, And worship only thee.
6. So shall my walk be close with God, Calm and serene my frame; So purer light shall mark the road That leads me to the Lamb.
LIX. C. M. WATTS'S SERMONS.
O that I knew where I might find him; or, Sins and Sorrows laid before God. Job xxiii. 3, 4, THAT I knew the secret place, Where I might find my God! I'd spread my wants before his face, And pour my woes abroad.
2 I'd tell him how my sins arise, What sorrows I sustain ;
How grace decays, and comfort dies, And leaves my heart in pain.`
2 He knows what arguments I'd take To wrestle with my God;
I'd plead for his own mercy's sake, And for my Saviour's blood.
God will pity my complaints, nd heal my broken bones;
« AnkstesnisTęsti » |