5 When gladness wings my favour'd hour, Thy love my thoughts shall fill; Resign'd when storms of sorrow low'r My soul shall meet thy will.

6 My lifted eye, without a tear,
The gath'ring storm shall see;
My steadfast heart shall know no fear;
That heart will rest on thee.

HYMN. 8's, 7's, and 4's.
God the Pilgrim's Guide.

115

1 GUIDE me, O thou great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but thou art mighty;
Hold me with thy pow'rful hand:
Bread of heaven,

Feed me till I want no more.

2 Open, Lord, the crystal fountain,
Whence the healing waters flow;
Let the fiery, cloudy pillar

Lead me all my journey through:
Strong deliv❜rer,

Be thou still my strength and shield.

3 When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears subside;
Death of death, and hell's destruction,
Land me safe on Canaan's side:
Songs of praises

I will ever give to thee.

HYMN. L. M.
Crucifixion to the World.

116

1 WHEN I survey the wond'rous cross,
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ, my God;
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.

3 See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
4 Were the wide realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

HYMN. C. M.
Holy Fortitude.

117

1 AM I a soldier of the cross;
A follower of the Lamb;

And shall I fear to own his cause,
Or blush to speak his name?

2 Shall I be carry'd to the skies, On flow'ry beds of ease,

While others fought to win the prize, And sail'd thro' bloody seas?

3 Are there no foes for me to face,
Must I not stem the flood;
Is this vain world a friend to grace,
To help us on to God?

Sure I must fight, if I would reign;
Increase my courage, Lord,

To bear the cross, endure the shame,
Supported by thy word.

5 The saints, in all this glorious war,
Shall conquer, tho' they die;
They see the triumph from afar,
With faith's discerning eye.

HYMN. C. M.

Salvation welcomed.

118

1 SALVATION! O, the joyful sound!

'Tis pleasure to our ears:

A sov'reign balm for every wound,
A cordial for our fears.

2 Buried in sorrow and in sin,
At hell's dark door we lay;
But we arise by grace divine
To see a heav'nly day.

3 Salvation! let the echo fly

The spacious earth around, While all the armies of the sky Conspire to raise the sound."

HYMN. L. M.

A Broken and a Contrite Heart.

119

1 SHOW pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive;
Let a repenting rebel live;

Are not thy mercies large and free?
May not a sinner trust in thee?

2 O wash my soul from every sin,

And make my guilty conscience clean;
Here on my heart the burden lies,
And past offences pain mine eyes.
3 My lips with shame my sins confess,
Against thy law, against thy grace;
Lord, should thy judgment grow severe,
I am condemn'd, but thou art clear.
4 Yet save a trembling sinner, Lord,

Whose hope, still hov'ring round thy word,
Would light on some sweet promise there,
Some sure support against despair.

HYMN. C. M.

120 Repentance at the Cross.

'TWAS for my sins, my dearest Lord
Hung on the cursed tree,
And groan'd away a dying life
For thee, my soul, for thee.

2 O, how I hate those sins of mine
That shed the Saviour's blood;
That pierc'd and nail'd his sacred flesh
Fast to the fatal wood.

3 Whilst with a melting broken heart,
My murder'd Lord I view,
I here renounce my darling sins,
And slay the murd❜rers too.

HYMN. L. M.

Sufferings and Death.

121

1 STRETCH'D on the cross, the Saviour dies; Hark! his expiring groans arise:

See from his hands, his feet, his side, Runs down the sacred crimson tide. 2 But life attends the deathful sound, And flows from ev'ry bleeding wound; The vital stream how free it flows, To save and cleanse his rebel foes! 3 Can I survey this scene of wo, Where mingling grief and wonder flow; And yet my heart unmov'd remain, Insensible to love, or pain?

4 Come, dearest Lord, thy grace impart, To warm this cold, this stupid heart! 'Till all its pow'rs and passions move In melting grief, and ardent love.

122

1 HARK! the voice of love and mercy!
Sounds aloud from Calvary;

See, it rends the rocks asunder-
Shakes the earth and veils the sky!
"It is finish'd!"-
Hear the Saviour-dying-cry.
2 It is finish'd!-Oh, what pleasure
Do these precious words afford!
Heav'nly blessings without measure,
Flow to us from Christ, the Lord:
It is finish'd!—

Saints, the dying words record.

HYMN. 8's, 7's, 4's.

It is finished. John xix. 30.

3 Finish'd-all the types and shadows
Of the ceremonial law;

Finish'd-all that God had promis'd;
Death and hell no more shall awe:
It is finish'd-

Saints, from hence your comforts draw.

4 Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs,-
Join to sing the pleasing theme;
All on earth, and all in heav'n,
Join to praise Immanuel's name:
Hallelujah!

Glory to the bleeding Lamb!

HYMN.

C. M.

Breathing after the Holy Spirit.

123

1 COME, Holy Spirit, heav'nly Dove, With all thy quick'ning pow'rs,

Kindle a frame of sacred love

In these cold hearts of ours.

2 In vain we tune our formal songs,
In vain we strive to rise;
Hosannas languish on our tongues,
And our devotion dies.

3 Dear Lord! and shall we ever live
At this poor dying rate?
Our love so faint, so cold to thee,
And thine to us so great?

4 Come, Holy Spirit, heav'nly Dove,
With all thy quick'ning pow'rs,-
Come, shed abroad a Saviour's love,
And that shall kindle ours.

HYMN. L. M.

Parting with carnal joys.

124

I I SEND the joys of earth away;
Away, ye tempters of the mind,
False as the smooth deceitful sea,
And empty as the whistling wind.

2 Your streams were floating me along, Down to the gulf of black despair; And whilst I listen'd to your song,

Your streams had e'en convey'd me there.

3 Lord, I adore thy matchless grace,
That warn'd me of that dark abyss;
That drew me from those treach'rous seas,
And bade me seek superior bliss.

4 Now to the shining realms above,

I stretch my hands, and glance my eyes;
Oh, for the pinions of a dove,

To bear me to the upper skies.