Hence, ye vain cares and trifles, fly;
Where God refides appear no more:
Omniscient God! thy piercing eye
Can ev'ry fecret thought explore:
O may thy grace our hearts refine
And fix our thoughts on things divine!
The word of life, difpens'd to-day,
Invites us to a heav'nly feaft;
May ev'ry ear the call obey,
Be ev'ry heart a humble guest!
O bid the wretched fons of need,
On foul-reviving dainties feed!
Thy Spirit's pow'iful aid impart ;
O may thy word, with life divine,
Engage the ear, and warm the heart
Then fhall the day indeed be thine;
Then fhall our fouls, adoring, own
The grace, which calls us to thy throne. T.
Another. Sevens.
CHRIST the Lord, is ris'n to-day,
Now to him we honage pay,
Who, fo lately, on the crois,
Suffer'd to redeem our lofs.
Hymns of praises let us fing,
Unto Chrift our heav'nly king,
Who endur'd the cross and grave,
Sinners to redeem and fave.
XXII. Another. L. M.
NOTHER fix days work is done;
Another fabbath is begun
Return, my foul, enjoy thy rest,
Improve the day thy God has bleft.
Come, blefs the Lord, whose love affigns
So fweet a reft to weary'd minds;
Provides an antepaft of heav'n,
And gives this day the food of seven.
O that our thoughts and thanks may rife,
As grateful incenfe, to the fkies;
And draw from heav'n that fweet repofe,
Which none, but he that feels it, knows.
This heav'nly calm, within the breaft,
Is the dear pledge of glorious reft,
Which for the church of God remains; ;
The end of cares, the end of pains.
In holy duties let the day,
In holy pleasures país away;
How fweet, a fabbath thus to fpend,
In hope of one that ne'er fhall end!
XXIII. Affliction Sanctified. Sevens.
"TIS my happiness below,
Not to live without the cross;
But, the Saviour's pow'r to know,
Sanctifying ev'ry lofs:
Trials mult and will befal;
But, with humble faith, to fee
Love infcrib'd upon them all,
This is happiness to me.
God, in Ifr'el, fows the feeds
Of affliction, pain and toil;
Thefe ipring up, and choke the weeds
Which would elfe o'erfpread the foil:
Trials make the promise fweet;
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 chaftifements by the way;
Might I not, with reafon, fear
I fhould prove a caft-away:
Baftards may efcape the rod,
Sunk in earthly, vain delight;
But the true-born child of God
Must not, would not, if he might.
OD moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the fea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing fkill,
He treafures up his bright defigns,
And works his fov'reign will.
Ye fearful faints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye fo much dread
Are big with mercy, and fhall break
In bleffings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But truft him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev'ry hour :
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But fweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is fure to err,
And fcan his work in vain :
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.
XXV. Flying to Chrift for Refuge. Sevens.
JESUS, lover of my foul,
Let me to thy bolom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high:
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide,
O receive my foul at last!
Other refuge have I none;
Hangs my helpless foul on thee;
Leave, ah! leave me not alone,
Still fupport and comfort me :
All my trust on thee is stay'd,
All my help from thee I bring;
Cover my defenceless head
With the fhadow of thy wing.
Thou, O Chrift, art all I want;
More than all in thee I find:
Raife the fallen, chear the faint,
Heal the fick, and lead the blind :
Juft and holy is thy name;
I am all unrighteoufnefs:
Vile, and full of fin I am,
Thou art full of truth and grace.
Plenteous grace with thee is found,
Grace to pardon all my fin :
Let the healing ftreams abound;
Make, and keep me pure within.
Thou of life the fountain art,
Freely let me take of thee;
Spring thou up within my heart,
Rife to all eternity!
XXVI. Chrift the Believer's Support. C.M.
IN ev'ry trouble, sharp and strong,
My foul to Jefus flies;
My anchor hold is firm in him,.
When swelling billows rife.
His comforts bear my fpirits up,
I trust a faithful God;
The fure foundation of my hope
Is in a Saviour's blood.
Loud hallelujahs fing my foul
To thy Redeemer's name;
In joy, in forrow, life and death,
His love is ftill the fame.
XXVII. Another. Sevens.
ON of God! thy bleffing grant; Still fapply my ev'ry want: Tree of Life, thine influence fhed, With thy fap my spirit feed.
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