3 Jesus, my glorious sun, arise!
"Tis thine the frozen heart to move;
O! hush these storms, and clear my skies,
And let me feel thy vital love!
4 Dear Lord, regard my feeble cry,
I faint and droop till thou appear;
Wilt thou permit thy plant to die?
Must it be winter all the year?
5 Be still, my soul, and wait this hour,
With humble prayer, and patient faith;
Till he reveals his gracious power,
Repose on what his promise saith.
6 He, by whose all-commanding word,
Seasons their changing course maintain,
In every change a pledge affords,
That none shall seek his face in vain.
214. Jesus seen in the Seasons; or, I will praise the
Lord at all Times. (P. M.)
VINTER has a joy for me,
While the Saviour's charms I read,
Lowly, meek, from blemish free,
In the snow-drop's pensive head.
2 Spring returns, and brings along
Life-invigorating suns:
Hark! the turtle's plaintive song,
Seems to speak his dying groans!
3 Summer has a thousand charms,
All expressive of his worth;
"Tis his sun that lights and warms,
His the air that cools the earth.
4 What, has autumn left to say,
Nothing of a Saviour's grace;
Yes, the beams of milder day,
Tell me of his smiling face.
5 Light appears with early dawn;
While the sun makes haste to rise,
See his bleeding beauties drawn,
On the blushes of the skies.
6 Evening with a silent pace,
Slowly moving in the west,
Shows an emblem of his grace,
Points to an eternal rest.
THE RIGHT IMPROVEMENT OF LIFE, WITH ITS REVIEW, &c.
215. Life the Day of Grace and Hope.
Eccl. ix. 4, 5, 6, 10. (L. M.)
LIFE is the time to serve the Lord,
The time to insure the great reward;
And while the lamp holds out to burn,
The vilest sinner may return.
2 Life is the hour that God has giv'n,
To 'scape from hell and fly to heav'n,
The day of grace, and mortals may,
Secure the blessings of the day.
3 The living know that they must die,
But all the dead forgotten lie,
Their memory and their sense is gone,
Alike unknowing and unknown.
4 Their hatred and their love is lost,
Their envy bury'd in the dust;
They have no share in all that's done,
Beneath the circuit of the sun.
5 Then what my thoughts design to do,
My hands, with all your might pursue,
Since no device, nor work is found,
Nor faith, nor hope, beneath the ground.
6 There are no acts of pardon past,
In the cold grave to which we haste ;
But darkness, death, and long despair,
Reign in eternal silence there.
Frailty and Folly. (C.M.)
1 HOW short and hasty is our life!
How vast our soul's affairs!
Yet senseless mortals vainly strive,
To lavish out their years.
2 Our days run thoughtlessly along,
Without a moment's stay:
Just like a story or a song,
We pass our lives away.
3 God from on high invites us home,
But we march heedless on,
And ever hasť'ning to the tomb,
Stoop downwards as we run.
4 How we deserve the deepest hell,
That slight the joys above!
What chains of vengeance should we feel,
That break such cords of love!
5 Draw us, O God, with sov'reign grace,
And lift our thoughts on high,
That we may end this mortal race,
And see salvation nigh.
217. The Shortness and Misery of Life. (C. M.)
UR days, alas! our mortal days,
Are short and wretched too;
"Evil and few," the patriarch says,
And well the patriarch knew.
2 "Tis but at best a narrow bound,
That heav'n allows to men,
And pains and sins run thro' the round,
Of threescore years and ten.
3 Well, if ye must be sad and few,
Run on, my days, in haste;
Moments of sin, and months of woe,
Ye cannot fly too fast.
4 Let heav'nly love prepare my soul,
And call her to the skies,
Where years of long salvation roll,
And glory never dies.
218. Love to the Creatures dangerous. (C. M.)
OW vain are all things here below!
How false, and yet how fair!
Each pleasure hath its poison too,
And every sweet a snare.
2 The brightest things below the sky,
Give but a flattering light;
We should suspect some danger nigh,
Where we possess delight.
3 Our dearest joys, and nearest friends,
The partners of our blood,
How they divide our wav'ring minds,
And leave but half for God!
4 The fondness of a creature's love,
How strong it strikes the sense!
Thither the warm affections move,
Nor can we call them thence.
5 Dear Saviour, let thy beauties be,
My soul's eternal food;
And grace command my heart away,
From all created good.
219. The Pilgrimage of the Saints; or, Earth and
ORD! what a wretched land is this,
That yields us no supply;
No cheering fruits, no wholesome trees,
Nor streams of living joy!
2 But pricking thorns through all the ground,
And mortal poisons grow;
And all the rivers that are found,
With dangerous waters flow.
3 Yet the dear path to thine abode,
Lies through this horrid land;
Lord! we would keep the heavenly road,
And run at thy command.
4 Our souls shall tread the desert through,
With undiverted feet;
And faith, and flaming zeal subdue,
The terrors that we meet.
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