Oh! send us not despairing home!
Send none unhealed away!

Exod. xvii. 15.

By whom was David taught

To aim the deadly blow,
When he Goliath fought,
And laid the Gittite low?
Nor sword nor spear the stripling took,
But chose a pebble from the brook.

'Twas Israel's God and king
Who sent him to the fight;
Who gave him strength to sling,
And skill to aim aright.
Ye feeble saints, your strength endures,
Because young David's God is yours.

Who ordered Gideon forth,

To storm the invaders' camp,
With arms of little worth,
A pitcher and a lamp?
The trumpets made his coming known],
And all the host was overthrown.

Oh! I have seen the day,

When with a single word,
God helping me to say,
"My trust is in the Lord,"
My soul hath quelled a thousand foes,
Fearless of all that could oppose.

But unbelief, self-will,

Self-righteousness, and pride,
How often do they steal
My weapon from my side!
Vet David's Lord, and Gideon's friend,
Will help his servant to the end.

Judges vi. 24.

Jesus ! whose blood so freely streamed

To satisfy the law's demand;
By thee from guilt and wrath redeemed,

Before the Father's face I stand.

To reconcile offending man,

Make justice drop her angry rod;

What creature could have formed the plan,
Or who fulfil it but a God?

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No drop remains of all the curse,

For wretches who deserved the whole;

No arrows dipt in wrath to pierce
The guilty, but returning soul.

Peace by such means so dearly bought,
What rebel could have hoped to see?

Peace, by his injured Sovereign wrought, His Sovereign fastened to a tree.

Now, Lord, thy feeble worm prepare!

For strife with earth and hell begins; Confirm and gird me for the war;

They hate the soul that hates his sins.

Let them in horrid league agree!

They may assault, they may distress; But cannot quench thy love to me,

Nor rob me of the Lord my peace.

Prov. viii. 22-31.

Ere God had built the mountains,

Or raised the fruitful hills; Before he filled the fountains

That feed the running rills;
In me, from everlasting,

The wonderful I AM,
Found pleasures never wasting,

And Wisdom is my name.

When, like a tent to dwell in,

He spread the skies abroad, And swathed about the swelling

Of Ocean's mighty flood; He wrought by weight and measur;,

And I was with him then: Myself the Father's pleasure,

And mine, the sons of men.

Thus Wisdom's words discover

Thy glory and thy grace, Thou everlasting lover

Of our unworthy race! Thy gracious eye surveyed us

Ere stars were seen above; In wisdom thou hast made us,

And died for us in love.

And couldst thou be delighted
With creatures such as we,

Who, when we saw thee, slighted,
And nailed thee to a tree?

Unfathomable wonder,

And mystery divine!
The voice that speaks in thunder,

Says, "Sinner, I am thine!"


God gives his mercies to be spent;

Your hoard will do your soul no good; Gold is a blessing only lent,

Repaid by giving others food.

The world's esteem is but a bribe,
To buy their peace you sell your own;

The slave of a vainglorious tribe,

Who hate you while they make you known.

The joy that vain amusements give,
Oh! sad conclusion that it brings!

The honey of a crowded hive,
Defended by a thousand stings.

'Tis thus the world rewards the fools
That live upon her treacherous smiles:

She leads them blindfold by her rules,
And ruins all whom she beguiles.

God knows the thousands who go down
From pleasure into endless woe;

And with a long despairing groan
Blaspheme their Maker as they go.

O fearful thought! be timely wise;

Delight but in a Saviour's charms, And God shall take you to the skies,

Embraced in everlasting arms.

Isaiah xii. i.

I WILL praise thee every day
Now thine anger's turned away;
Comfortable thoughts arise
From the bleeding sacrifice.

Here, in the fair gospel-field,
Wells of free salvation yield
Streams of life, a plenteous store,
And my soul shall thirst no more.

Jesus is become at length
My salvation and my strength;
And his praises shall prolong,
While I live, my pleasant song.

Praise ye, then, his glorious name,
Publish his exalted fame!
Still his worth your praise exceeds;
Excellent are all his deeds.

Raise again the joyful sound,
Let the nations roll it round!
Zion, shout! for this is he;
God the Saviour dwells in thee!

Isaiah lvii. 15.

The Lord will happiness divine

On contrite hearts bestow;
Then tell me, gracious God, is mme

A contrite heart, or no?

I hear, but seem to hear in vain,

Insensible as steel;
If ought is felt, 'tis only pain,

To find I cannot feel.

I sometimes think myself inclined

To love thee, if I could;
But often feel another mind,

Averse to all that's good.

My best desires are faint and few,
I fain would strive for more;

But when I cry, "My strength renew!'!
Seem weaker than before.

Thy saints aie comforted, I know,
And love thy house of prayer;

I therefore go where others go,
But find no comfort there.

O make this heart rejoice or ache;

Decide this doubt for me;
And if it be not broken, break, —

And heal it if it be!


Isaiah ix. 15-20.

Hear what God the Lord hath spoken,
"O my people, faint and few,
Comfortless, afflicted, broken,
Fair abodes I build for you.
Thorns of heartfelt tribulation
Shall no more perplex your ways:

You shall name your walls. Salvation,
And your gates shall all be Praise.

"There, like streams that feed the garden.
Pleasures without end shall flow;
For the Lord, your faith rewardmg,
All his bounty shall bestow;
Still in undisturbed possession
Peace and righteousness shall reign;
Never shall you feel oppression,
Hear the voice of war again.

"Ye no more your suns descending,
Waning moons no more shall see;
Hut, your griefs for ever endmg,
Find eternal noon in me:
God shall rise, and shming o'er ye,
Change to day the gloom of night;
He, the Lord, shall be your glory,
God your everlasting light."


My God, how perfect are thy ways!

But mine polluted are;
Sm twines itself about my praise,

And slides into my prayer.

When I would speak what thou hast done

To save me from my sm,
I cannot make thy mercies known,

But self-applause creeps in.

Divine desire, that holy flame

Thy grace creates in me; Alas! impatience is its name,

When it returns to thee.

This heart, a fountain of vile thoughts,

How does it overflow,
While self upon the surface floats,

Still bubbling from below.

Let others in the gaudy dress

Of fancied merit shine;
The Lord shall be my righteousness,

The Lord for ever mine.

Jer. xxxi. 18-20.
My God, till I received thy stroke,
How like a beast was I!

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