Heavenly blessings, without measure,
Flow to us from Christ the Lord;
"It is finished!"

Let our joyful songs record.

5 Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs!
Sound aloud Immanuel's name :
All creation swell the chorus ;
Dwell on this delightful theme,
"It is finished!"

Glory, glory to the Lamb!

LXXXIV.

"As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine, no more can ye, except ye abide in me."John xv. 4.

1 JESUS, immutably the same,

Thou true and living vine!
Around thy all-supporting stem,
My feeble arms I twine.

2 Quickened by thee, and kept alive,
I flourish and bear fruit;
My life I from thy sap derive,
My vigour from thy root.

3 I can do nothing without thee,
My strength is wholly thine;
Withered and barren should I be,
If severed from the vine.

4 Upon my leaf, when parched with heat, Refreshing dews shall drop;

The plant which thy right hand hath set,
Shall ne'er be rooted up.

5 Each moment watered by thy care,
And fenced with power divine,
Fruit to eternal life shall bear
The feeblest branch of thine.

*LXXXV.

"What shall I render unto the Lord, for all his benefits toward me."-Psalm cxvi. 12.

(COMPOSED ON NEW YEAR'S DAY.)

1 I COME, my Lord, to offer up to thee, A worthless, but a willing offering; A heart, where only evil I can see,

Yet, not for that, refuse the gift I bring: Oh, deign to accept it-cast each evil

out,

And make it pure, and new, within, without.

2 I come, my Lord, to offer up to thee,

All it now suffers of distress and pain ; It is thine own; work thou thy will in me; Let me not once resist it, or complain, But meekly in my sufferings acquiesce, Assured that thou each pang wilt deign to bless.

3 I come, my Lord, to offer up to thee, All that that heart can dictate or perform;

Let thy blest Spirit its controller be,

Let thy pure love its every movement

warm;

And make that heart, once sin's defiled abode,

The holy habitation of my God.

4 I come, my Lord, to offer up to thee, The brief remainder of life's fleeting

span;

Whate'er I have, or am, thine own shall be, Without thee, I will form no wish nor plan;

Time, talents, influence, actions, thoughts and words,

All, all be unreservedly my Lord's!

5 I come, my Lord, to offer up to thee,

A creature made thine own by every tie; Hast thou not formed, preserved, and ransomed me?

Oh, didst thou not to pay my ransom, die? Lord, at thy feet my worthless self I lay, Oh, never, never cast me thence away.

*LXXXVI.

"Blessed are they that mourn.”—Matt. v. 4.

1 I HEARD the voice of love divine,
Addressing man to trouble born;
Saviour! what accents then were thine ?
"Blessed are they that mourn.”

2 Again it spoke-"Come unto me,
"Thou, with distress and labour

worn,

"Rest and refreshment are for thee:

"Blessed are they that mourn.”

3 I heard a voice in truth's pure word, A saint who sorrow's yoke had borne, "Blest is the man thou chastenest, Lord!" "Blessed are they that mourn.”

4 I heard an angel voice proclaim,

66

Yon victors bright, whom crowns adorn,
Through tribulation great they came!"
"Blessed are they that mourn.”

5 Why should I then for sufferings grieve, Since Sorrow leads to joy's bright

bourne ?

Let me indeed the words believe,

“Blessed are they that mourn!"

LXXXVII.

Deuteronomy viii. 2—16.

1 CAN I forget the wondrous ways
By which thou hast thy servant led;
Through a long lonely wilderness,

How strangely kept, how strangely fed, Tempted, and proved by hopes and fears, I roved for many sinful years!

2 Provoked, thou didst not quite depart,
But further yet thy Spirit tried,
Shewed me the evil of my heart,

Its stubbornness, deceit, and pride!
While still I cast thy grace away,
And would not, when I might, obey.

3 Long in a tempted state forlorn,

Thou hast my kind supporter been:
Thou madest me at times to mourn,
To feel that all my heart is sin :
My depth of unbelief to prove,
Melted beneath thy humbling love.

4 I now thy love's design perceive;

He to myself that love hath shewn ;
Thou didst in love thy servant leave,
To come again, and claim thine own;
To save when all my griefs were past,
And do me endless good at last.

H