My meditation of Him shall be sweet.
WHEN langour and disease invade This trembling house of clay, 'Tis sweet to look beyond our cage, And long to fly away.
2 Sweet to look inward, and attend The whispers of his love;
Sweet to look upward, to the place Where Jesus pleads above.
3 Sweet to look back, and see my name In life's fair book set down; Sweet to look forward, and behold Eternal joys my own.
4 Sweet to reflect how grace divine My sins on Jesus laid;
Sweet to remember that his blood My debt of sufferings paid.
5 Sweet on his righteousness to stand, Which saves from second death; Sweet to experience, day by day, His Spirit's quick'ning breath. 6 Sweet on his faithfulness to rest, Whose love can never end; Sweet on his covenant of grace For all things to depend. Sweet, in the confidence of faith, To trust his firm decrees; Sweet to lie passive in his hand, And know no will but his.
8 If such the sweetness of the stream, What must the fountain be, Where saints and angels draw their bliss, Immediately from thee!
1 WHAT tho' my frail eyelids refuse Continual watching to keep, And, punctual as midnight renews, Demand the refreshment of sleep? A sov'reign Protector I have, Unseen, yet for ever at hand, Unchangeably faithful to save, Almighty to rule and command!
2 From evil secure, and its dread, I rest, if my Saviour is nigh, And songs his kind presence indeed Shall in the night season supply. He smiles, and my comforts abound; His grace as the dew shall descend;
And walls of salvation surround The soul he delights to defend!
3 Kind author and ground of my hope, Thee, thee, for my God I avow, My glad Ebenezer set up,
And own thou hast help'd me till now. I muse on the years that are past, Wherein my defence thou hast prov'd; Nor wilt thou relinquish at last A sinner so signally lov'd.
4 Inspirer and hearer of pray'r, Thou feeder and guardian of thine, My all to thy covenant care
I sleeping and waking resign. If thou art my shield and my sun, The night is no darkness to me; And, fast as the moments roll on, They bring me but nearer to thee.
1 HAPPY are they who know the Lord, With whom he deigns to dwell! He feeds and cheers them by his word, His arm supports them well.
2 To them, in each distressing hour, His throne of grace is near;
And, when they plead his love and pow'r, He stands engaged to hear.
3 He help'd his saints in ancient days Who trusted in his name; And we can witness, to his praise, His love is still the same.
4 Oft in his house his glory shines Before our wond'ring eyes; We wish not then for golden mines, Nor aught beneath the skies.
5 His presence sweetens all our cares, And makes our burdens light; A word from him dispels our fears, And gilds the gloom of night.
6 Lord, we expect to suffer here, Nor would we dare repine; But give us still to find thee near, And own us still for thine.
Hannah, or the Throne of Grace. 1 Sam. i. 18.
1 WHEN Hannah, press'd with grief, Pour'd forth her soul in pray'r,
She quickly found relief,
And left her burden there.
Like her, in ev'ry trying case, Let us approach the throne of grace. 2 When she began to pray
Her heart was pain'd and sad; But, ere she went away,
Was comforted and glad.
In trouble, what a resting place Have they who know the throne of grace!
3 Tho' men and devils rage,
And threaten to devour,
The saints, from age to age,
Are safe from all their pow'r.
Fresh strength they gain to run their race,
By waiting at the throne of
4 Eli her case mistook;
How was her spirit mov'd By his unkind rebuke!
But God her cause approv'd.
We need not fear a creature's face Whilst welcome at a throne of grace.
5 She was not fill'd with wine, As Eli rashly thought, But with a faith divine
Had found the aid she sought. Tho' men despise and call us base, Still let us ply the throne of grace. 6 Men have not pow'r nor skill With troubled souls to bear; Tho' they express good will, Poor comforters they are:
But swelling sorrows sink apace When we approach the throne of grace.
7 Numbers before have try'd,
And found the promise true; Nor one been yet deny'd,
Then why should I or you?
Let us by faith their footsteps trace, And hasten to the throne of grace.
8 As fogs obscure the light, And taint the morning air, But soon are put to flight,
If the bright sun appear;
Thus Jesus will our troubles chase, By shining from the throne of
Praise for the Continuance of the Gospel.
1 COME, ye who trembled for the ark, Unite in praise for answer'd pray'r; Did not the Lord our sorrows mark? Did not our sighing reach his ear?
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