Let me not angrily declare

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

But rather weep, remembering thine.


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,

A»d crushed before the moth!

Bstt *h! nr inward spirit cries,
Stui bind me to thy sway:

fist :S? ae\; ciocd that veils the skies X'Vtws 4l^ these thoughts away.

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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.


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.


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.

Bat this with holiness I proclaim,

Nor care if thousands hear, Sweet is the ointment of his name,

Not life is half so dear.

And can Voo frown, my former friends,
Who knew what once I was,

Atad Krtiae the soog thit tlras commends
The Maa who bore the cross?

TrasS oe, I draw use likeness true,

Ami not as tisor raints;
Sach hocccr Ear he give to yoa.

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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.


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.


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;

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