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I need not to confess my life,
So come I to the throne of grace,
To heal my deadly wound.
Mercy, O Lord! mercy I ask :
For mercy, Lord, is all my prayer:
HERE is the Spring where waters flow, To quench our heat of sin :
Here is the tree where truth doth grow,
To lead our lives therein.
Here is the Judge that stints the strife,
Here is the bread that feeds the life,
The tidings of salvation dear,
Come to our ears from hence;
The fortress of our faith is here,
And shield of our defence.
Then be not like the swine, that hath
A pearl at his desire,
And takes more pleasure in the trough,
And wallowing in the mire.
Read not this Book, in any case,
Read not, but first desire God's grace
To understand thereby.
Pray still in faith, with this respect,
To fructify therein;
That knowledge may bring this effect, To mortify thy sin.
Then happy thou in all thy life,
Yea, doubly happy shalt thou be,
When God by death thee calls.
"ARE THEY NOT ALL MINISTERING SPIRITS?"
AND is there care in heaven? and is there love
There is; else much more wretched were the case
How oft do they their silver bowers leave
They for us fight, they watch and duly ward,
Oh! why should heavenly God to man have such regard!
THE GRASS WITHERETH, THE FLOWER FADETH."
SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ;
Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
And thou must die.
Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses,
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to a coal,