erhaps some golden wedge suppressed, Some secret sin offends my God; erhaps that Babylonish vest, Self-righteousness, provokes the rod. h! were I buffeted all day, Mocked, crowned with thorns, and spit upon,

yet should have no right to say, My great distress is mine alone.

Let me not angrily declare

No pain was ever sharp like mine, Nor murmur at the cross I bear,

But rather weep, remembering thine.

XLV. SUBMISSION.

O LORD, my best desire fulfil,
And help me to resign
Life, health, and comfort to thy will,
And make thy pleasure mine.
Why should I shrink at thy command,
Whose love forbids my fears?
Or tremble at the gracious hand
That wipes away my tears?
No, rather let me freely yield

What most I prize to thee;
Who never hast a good withheld,
Or wilt withhold, from me.
Thy favour, all my journey through,
Thou art engaged to grant ;
What else I want, or think I do,

'Tis better still to want.

Wisdom and mercy guide my way,
Shall I resist them both?
A poor blind creature of a day,
And crushed before the moth!

But ah! my inward spirit cries,

Still bind me to thy sway;

Else the next cloud that veils the skies Drives all these thoughts away.

XLVI. THE HAPPY CHANGE.

How blessed thy creature is, O God,
When, with a single eye,
He views the lustre of thy word,
The dayspring from on high!

Through all the storms that veil the skies
And frown on earthly things,
The Sun of Righteousness he eyes,
With healing on his wings.

Struck by that light, the human heart,
A barren soil no more,

Sends the sweet smell of grace abroad,
Where serpents lurked before.

The soul, a dreary province once
Of Satan's dark domain,
Feels a new empire formed within,
And owns a heavenly reign.

The glorious orb whose golden beams
The fruitful year control,

Since first, obedient to thy word,
He started from the goal,

Has cheered the nations with the joys
His orient rays impart ;
But, Jesus, 'tis thy light alone
Can shine upon the heart.

✔ XLVII. RETIREMENT.
FAR from the world, O Lord, I flee,
From strife and tumult far;
From scenes where Satan wages still
His most successful war.

The calm retreat, the silent shade,

With prayer and praise agree; And seem by thy sweet bounty made For those who follow thee.

There, if thy Spirit touch the soul,

And grace her mean abode,
Oh! with what peace, and joy, and love,
She communes with her God!

There like the nightingale she pours
Her solitary lays;

Nor asks a witness of her song,

Nor thirsts for human praise.

Author and guardian of my life,

Sweet source of light divine,
And-all harmonious names in one-
My Saviour! thou art mine!

What thanks I owe thee, and what love,
A boundless, endless store,
Shall echo through the realms above,
When time shall be no more.

XLVIII. THE HIDDEN LIFE.

To tell the Saviour all my wants,

How pleasing is the task!
Nor less to praise him when he grants
Beyond what I can ask.

My labouring spirit vainly seeks
To tell but half the joy;
With how much tenderness he speaks,
And helps me to reply.

Nor were it wise, nor should I choose,
Such secrets to declare;

Like precious wines their taste they lose,

Exposed to open air.

But this with boldness I proclaim,
Nor care if thousands hear,
Sweet is the ointment of his name,
Not life is half so dear.

And can you frown, my former friends,
Who knew what once I was;
And blame the song that thus commends
The Man who bore the cross?

Trust me, I draw the likeness true,

And not as fancy paints; Such honour may he give to you, For such have all his saints.

XLIX. JOY AND PEACE IN BELIEVING.

SOMETIMES a light surprises
The Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord who rises

With healing in his wings:
When comforts are declining,
He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining,
To cheer it after rain.

In holy contemplation,

We sweetly then pursue The theme of God's salvation, And find it ever new: Set free from present sorrow, We cheerfully can say, E'en let the unknown to-morrow Bring with it what it may !

It can bring with it nothing
But he will bear us through;
Who gives the lilies clothing

Will clothe his people too;
Beneath the spreading heavens
No creature but is fed;
And he who feeds the ravens

Will give his children bread.

Though vine nor fig-tree neither Their wonted fruit shall bear, Though all the field should wither, Nor flocks nor herds be there: Yet God the same abiding,

His praise shall tune my voice; For, while in him confiding, I cannot but rejoice.

L. TRUE PLEASURES.
LORD, my soul with pleasure springs
When Jesus' name I hear;
And when God the Spirit brings
The word of promise near:
Beauties too, in holiness,

Still delighted I perceive;
Nor have words that can express
The joys thy precepts give.

Clothed in sanctity and grace,
How sweet it is to see
Those who love thee as they pass,
Or when they wait on thee!
Pleasant too, to sit and tell

What we owe to love divine;
Till our bosoms grateful swell,
And eyes begin to shine.

Those the comforts I possess,

Which God shall still increase,
All his ways are pleasantness,
And all his paths are peace.
Nothing Jesus did or spoke,
Henceforth let me ever slight;
For I love his easy yoke,
And find his burden light.

LI. THE CHRISTIAN.

HONOUR and happiness unite

To make the Christian's name a praise; How fair the scene, how clear the light, That fills the remnant of his days!

A kingly character he bears,
No change his priestly office knows;
Unfading is the crown he wears,

His joys can never reach a close.

Adorned with glory from on high,
Salvation shines upon his face;
His robe is of the ethereal dye,
His steps are dignity and grace.

Inferior honours he disdains,

Nor stoops to take applause from earth; The King of kings himself maintains The expenses of his heavenly birth.

The noblest creature seen below,

Ordained to fill a throne above; God gives him all he can bestow,

His kingdom of eternal love!

My soul is ravished at the thought! Methinks from earth I see him rise! Angels congratulate his lot,

And shout him welcome to the skies!

LII. LIVELY HOPE AND

GRACIOUS FEAR.

I WAS a grovelling creature once,
And basely cleaved to earth;
I wanted spirit to renounce

The clod that gave me birth.

But God has breathed upon a worm,
And sent me from above
Wings such as clothe an angel's form,
The wings of joy and love.

With these to Pisgah's top I fly,

And there delighted stand,
To view beneath a shining sky
The spacious promised land.

The Lord of all the vast domain
Has promised it to me,

The length and breadth of all the plain
As far as faith can see.

How glorious is my privilege! To thee for help I call;

I stand upon a mountain's edge, Oh save me, lest I fall!

LIV. MY SOUL THIRSTETH
FOR GOD.

I THIRST, but not as once I did,

The vain delights of earth to share; Thy wounds, Emmanuel, all forbid

That I should seek my pleasures there. It was the sight of thy dear cross

First weaned my soul from earthly things;

And taught me to esteem as dross

The mirth of fools and pomp of kings.

I want that grace that springs from thee,
That quickens all things where it flows,
And makes a wretched thorn like me
Bloom as the myrtle, or the rose.
Dear fountain of delight unknown!
No longer sink below the brim;
But overflow, and pour me down
A living and life-giving stream;

For sure of all the plants that share The notice of thy Father's eye, None proves less grateful to his care, Or yields him meaner fruit than I.

LV. LOVE CONSTRAINING
TO OBEDIENCE.

No strength of Nature can suffice
To serve the Lord aright:
And what she has she misapplies,
For want of clearer light.

How long beneath the law I lay
In bondage and distress;
I toiled the precept to obey,

But toiled without success.

Then to abstain from outward sin

Was more than I could do; Now, if I feel its power within,

I feel I hate it too.

Then all my servile works were done
A righteousness to raise;
Now, freely chosen in the Son,

I freely chuse his ways.

"What shall I do," was then the word,
"That I may worthier grow?"
"What shall I render to the Lord?"
Is my inquiry now.

To see the law by Christ fulfilled,
And hear his pardoning voice,
Changes a slave into a child,
And duty into choice.

Much I fasted, watched, and strove, Scarce would show my face abroad, Feared almost to speak or move,

A stranger still to God.

Thus afraid to trust his grace,
Long time did I rebel;
Till despairing of my case,
Down at his feet I fell:
Then my stubborn heart he broke,
And subdued me to his sway;
By a simple word he spoke,
"Thy sins are done away.”

LVII. HATRED OF SIN.

HOLY Lord God! I love thy truth,

Nor dare thy least commandment slight;

Yet pierced by sin, the serpent's tooth, I mourn the anguish of the bite.

But though the poison lurks within,

Hope bids me still with patience wait; Till death shall set me free from sin, Free from the only thing I hate.

Had I a throne above the rest,

Where angels and archangels dwell, One sin, unslain, within my breast,

Would make that heaven as dark as hell.

The prisoner sent to breathe fresh air, And blessed with liberty again, Would mourn were he condemnedto wear

One link of all his former chain.

But, oh! no foe invades the bliss, When glory crowns the Christian's head;

One view of Jesus as he is

Will strike all sin for ever dead.

LVIII. THE NEW CONVERT. THE new-born child of Gospel grace, Like some fair tree when summer's nigh,

Beneath Emmanuel's shining face

Lifts up his blooming branch on high.

No fears he feels, he sees no foes,
No conflict yet his faith employs,
Nor has he learnt to whom he owes

The strength and peace his soul enjoys.

But sin soon darts its cruel sting,

And comforts sinking day by day, What seemed his own, a self-fed spring, Proves but a brook that glides away.

When Gideon armed his numerous host, The Lord soon made his numbers less; And said, "Lest Israel vainly boast,

'My arm procured me this success.

Thus will he bring our spirits down, And draw our ebbing comforts low, That saved by grace, but not our own, We may not claim the praise we owe.

LIX. TRUE AND FALSE COMFORTS.

O GOD, whose favourable eye
The sin-sick soul revives,
Holy and heavenly is the joy
Thy shining presence gives.

Not such as hypocrites suppose,

Who with a graceless heart Taste not of thee, but drink a dose Prepared by Satan's art.

Intoxicating joys are theirs,

Who while they boast their light, And seem to soar above the stars, Are plunging into night.

Lulled in a soft and fatal sleep,

They sin and yet rejoice; Were they indeed the Saviour's sheep, Would they not hear his voice?

Be mine the comforts that reclaim

The soul from Satan's power;
That make me blush for what I am,
And hate my sin the more.

'Tis joy enough, my All in All,
At thy dear feet to lie;
Thou wilt not let me lower fall,
And none can higher fly.

LX. A LIVING AND A DEAD

FAITH.

THE Lord receives his highest praise From humble minds and hearts sincere ;

While all the loud professor says
Offends the righteous Judge's ear.

To walk as children of the day,
To mark the precepts' holy light,
To wage the warfare, watch, and pray,
Show who are pleasing in his sight.

Not words alone it cost the Lord

To purchase pardon for his own; Nor will a soul by grace restored

Return the Saviour words alone.

With golden bells, the priestly vest, And rich pomegranates bordered round,

The need of holiness expressed,

And called for fruit as well as sound.

Easy indeed it were to reach

A mansion in the courts above, If swelling words and fluent speech Might serve instead of faith and love. But none shall gain the blissful place, Or God's unclouded glory see, Who talks of free and sovereign grace, Unless that grace has made him free!

LXI. ABUSE OF THE GOSPEL.

Too many, Lord, abuse thy grace
In this licentious day,
And while they boast they see thy face
They turn their own away.

Thy book displays a gracious light

That can the blind restore;
But these are dazzled by the sight,

And blinded still the more.

The pardon such presume upon,
They do not beg, but steal;
And when they plead it at thy throne,
Oh! where's the Spirit's seal?