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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.


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 !

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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.


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!

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