VII. VANITY OF THE WORLD. GOD gives his mercies to be spent ; Repaid by giving others food. The world's esteem is but a bribe, Who hate you while they make you known. The joy that vain amusements give, Oh! sad conclusion that it brings! "Tis thus the world rewards the fools God knows the thousands who go down O fearful thought! be timely wise: VIII. O LORD, I WILL PRAISE THEE.— Isaiah xii. 1. I WILL praise thee every day Now thine anger's turned away! Comfortable thoughts arise Here in the fair gospel-field, Jesus is become at length Praise ye then his glorious name, Still his worth your praise exceeds, Raise again the joyful sound, Let the nations roll it round! Zion, shout, for this is he, God the Saviour dwells in thee! IX. THE CONTRITE HEART.-Isaiah lvii. 15. THE Lord will happiness divine On contrite hearts bestow; Then tell me, gracious God, is mine A contrite heart or no? I hear, but seem to hear in vain, If aught is felt, 'tis only pain I sometimes think myself inclined But often feel another mind, My best desires are faint and few, Thy saints are comforted, I know, O make this heart rejoice or ache; X. THE FUTURE PEACE AND GLORY OF THE CHURCH.-Isaiah ix. 15-20. HEAR What God the Lord hath spoken, You shall name your walls, Salvation, "There, like streams that feed the garden, Pleasures without end shall flow; For the Lord, your faith rewarding, All his bounty shall bestow; Never shall you feel oppression, "Ye no more your suns descending, God shall rise, and shining o'er you, XI. JEHOVAH OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS.Jer. xxiii. 6. My God, how perfect are thy ways! But mine polluted are; Sin twines itself about my praise, And slides into my prayer. When I would speak what thou hast done, To save me from my sin, I cannot make thy mercies known, Divine desire, that holy flame This heart, a fountain of vile thoughts, How does it overflow! While self upon the surface floats, Still bubbling from below. Let others in the gaudy dress The Lord shall be my righteousness, The Lord forever mine. XII. EPHRAIM REPENTING. Jer, xxxi. 18-20. My God, till I received thy stroke, So unaccustom'd to the yoke, With grief my just reproach I bear, Thy merciful restraint I scorn'd, "Is Ephraim banish'd from my thoughts, Or vile in my esteem? No," saith the Lord, "with all his faults, I still remember him. "Is he a dear and pleasant child? 'My sharp rebuke has laid him low, My pity kindles at his woe, He shall not seek in vain." |