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.

L.—TRUE PLEASURES.

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.

LI.-THE CHRISTIAN.

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;

His robe is of the ethereal dye,
His steps are dignity and grace.

Inferior honours he disdains,

Nor stoops to take applause from earth; The King of kings himself maintains

The expenses of his heavenly birth.

The noblest creature seen below,
Ordained to fill a throne above;

God gives him all he can bestow,
His kingdom of eternal love!

My soul is ravished at the thought!

Methinks from earth I see him rise!
Angels congratulate his lot,

And shout him welcome to the skies!

LII.—LIVELY HOPE AND GRACIOUS FEAR.

I Was a groveling creature once,
And basely cleaved to earth;

I wanted spirit to renounce
The clod that gave me birth.

But God hath breathed upon a worm,

And sent me from above
Wings such as clothe an angel's form,

The wings of joy and love.

With these to Pisgah's top I fly,

And there delighted stand,
To view beneath a shining sky

The spacious promised land.

The Lord of all the vast domain

Has promised it to me,
The length and breadth of all the plain

As far as faith can see.

How glorious is my privilege!

To thee for help I call;
I stand upon a mountain's edge,

Oh save me, lest I fall!

Though much exalted in the Lord,

My strength is not my own;
Then let me tremble at his word,

And none shall cast me down.

LIII.—FOR THE POOR.

When Hagar found the bottle spent,
And wept o'er Ishmael,

A message from the Lord was sent
To guide her to a well.

Should not Elijah's cake and cruse

Convince us at this day,
A gracious God will not refuse

Provisions by the way?

His saints and servants shall be fed,

The promise is secure;
"Bread shall be given them," as he said,

"Their water shall be sure."

Repasts far richer they shall prove,
Than all earth's dainties are;

'Tis sweet to taste a Saviour's love,
Though in the meanest fare.

To Jesus then your trouble bring,

Nor murmur at your lot;
While you are poor and He is king,

You shall not be forgot.

LIV.—MY SOUL THIRSTETH FOR GOD.

I THIRST, but not as once I did,
The vain delights of earth to share;

Thy wounds, Emmanuel, all forbid
That I should seek my pleasures there.

It was the sight of thy dear cross

First weaned my soul from earthly things; And taught me to esteem as dross

The mirth of fools and pomp of kings.

I want that grace that springs from thee,
That quickens all things where it flows,

And makes a wretched thorn like me
Bloom as the myrtle, or the rose.

Dear fountain of delight unknown!

No longer sink below the brim;
But overflow, and pour me down

A living and life-giving stream!

For sure of all the plants that share

The notice of thy Father's eye,
None proves less grateful to his care,

Or yields him meaner fruit than I.

LV.—LOVE CONSTRAINING TO OBEDIENCE.

No strength of nature can suffice
To serve the Lord aright:

And what she has she misapplies,
For want of clearer light.

How long beneath the law I lay

In bondage and distress;
I toiled the precept to obey,

But toiled without success.

Then, to abstain from outward sin
Was more than I could do;

Now, if I feel its power within,
I feel I hate it too.

Then all my servile works were done

A righteousness to raise;
Now, freely chosen in the Son,

I freely choose his ways.

"What shall I do," was then the word,
"That I may worthier grow?"

"What shall I render to the Lord?"
Is my inquiry now.

To see the law by Christ fulfilled,
And hear his pardoning voice,

Changes a slave into a child,
And duty into choice.

LVI.-THE HEART HEALED AND CHANGED BY MERCY.

Sin enslaved me many years,

And led me bound and blind;
Till at length a thousand fears

Came swarming o'er my mind.
"Where," said I, in deep distress,

"Will these sinful pleasures end?
How shall I secure my peace,

And make the Lord my friend?"

Friends and ministers said much

The gospel to enforce;
But my blindness still was such,

I chose a legal course:
Much I fasted, watched, and strove,

Scarce would show my face abroad,
Feared almost to speak or move,

A stranger still to God.

Truis afraid to trust his grace,

Long time did I rebel;
Till despairing of my case,

Down at his feet I fell:
Then my stubborn heart he broke,

And subdued me to his sway;

By a simple word he spoke,
"Thy sins are done away."

LVII.-HATRED OF SIN.

Holy Lord God! I love thy truth,

Nor dare thy least commandment slight;

Yet pierced by sin, the serpent's tooth,
I mourn the anguish of the bite.

But though the poison lurks within,
Hope bids me still with patience wait;

Till death shall set me free from sin,
Free from the only thing I hate.

Had I a throne above the rest,

Where angels and archangels dwell,

One sin, unslain, within my breast,

Would make that heaven as dark as hell.

The prisoner sent to breathe fresh air,
And blessed with liberty again,

Would mourn were he condemned to wear
One link of all his former chain.

But, oh! no foe invades the bliss,

When glory crowns the Christian's head;

One view of Jesus as he is

Will strike all sin for ever dead.

LVIII.—THE NEW CONVERT.

The new-born child of gospel grace,

Like some fair tree when summer's nigh,

Beneath Emmanuel's shining face

Lifts up his blooming branch on high.

No fears he feels, he sees no foes,
No conflict yet his faith employs,

Nor has he learnt to whom he owes
The strength and peace his soul enjoys.

But sin soon darts its cruel sting,
And comforts sinking day by day,

What seemed his own, a self-fed spring,
Proves but a brook that glides away.

When Gideon armed his numerous host,
The Lord soon made his numbers less:

And said, "Lest Israel vainly boast,
'My arm procured me this success.'"

Thus will he bring our spirits down,
And draw our ebbing comforts low,