The hand that gave it still supplies
The gracious light and heat:

His truths upon the nations rise,
They rise, but never set.

Let everlasting thanks be thine,
For such a bright display, As makes a world of darkness shine
With beams of heavenly day.

My soul rejoices to pursue

The steps of him I love,
Till glory breaks upon my view

In brighter worlds above.


His master taken from his head, Elisha saw him go;
And in desponding accents said,"Ah, what must Israel do?"

But he forgot the Lord who lifts

The beggar to the throne;
Nor knew, that all Elijah's gifts

Will soon be made his own.

What! when a Paul has run his course,

Or when Apollos dies,
Is Israel left without resource?

And have we no supplies?

Yes, while the dear Redeemer lives, We have a boundless store,

And shall be fed with what he gives, Who lives for evermore.


Mr former hopes are fled, My terror now begins;
I feel, alas! that I am dead In trespasses and sins.

Ah, whither shall I fly!

I hear the thunder roar;
The law proclaims destruction nigh, And vengeance at the door.

When I review my ways,
I dread impending doom:

But sure a friendly whisper says,
"Flee from the wrath to come."

I see, or think I see,

A glimmering from afar;A beam of day, that shines for me, To save me from despair.

Forerunner of the sun,1

It marks the Pilgrim's way;

I'll gaze upon it while I run, And watch the rising day.

L cxxx. 6.


To those who know the Lord, I speak, Is my beloved near? The bridegroom of my soul I seek, Oh! when will he appear?

Though once a man of grief and shame,

Yet now he fills a throne,
And bears the greatest, sweetest name,

That earth or heaven have known.

Grace flies before, and love attends

His steps where'er he goes; Though none can see him but his friends,

And they were once his foes.

He speaks—obedient to his call

Our warm affections move: Did he but shine alike on all,

Then all alike would love.

Then love in every heart would reign, And war would cease to roar;
And cruel and bloodthirsty men

Would thirst for blood no more.

Such Jesus is, and such his grace,

Oh, may he shine on you!
And tell him, when you see his face,

I long to see him too.1

i Cant. v. 8. VOL. III. 4


God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,

And works his sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace:Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,

Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,

But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,1
And scan his work in vain:God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.

1 John xiii. 7.


'Tis my happiness below,

Not to live without the cross, But the Saviour's power to know,

Sanctifying every loss: Trials must and will befall;

But with humble faith to see Love inscribed upon them all,

This is happiness to me.

God in Israel sows the seeds

Of affliction, pain, and toil; These spring up and choke the weeds

Which would else o'erspread the soil: Trials make the promise sweet,

Trials give new life to prayer; Trials bring me to his feet,

Lay me low, and keep me there.

Did I meet no trials here,

No chastisement by the way: Might I not, with reason, fear

I should prove a cast-away. Bastards may escape the rod,1

Sunk in earthly vain delight; But the true-born child of God

Must not, would not, if he might.

1 Hebrews xii. 8.

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