135. L. M.

'Faith without Works is dead.' James ii. 26.

1 As body when the soul has fled,
As barren trees, decayed and dead,
Is faith; a hopeless, lifeless thing,
If not of righteous deeds the spring.
2 One cup of healing oil and wine,
One tear-drop shed on mercy's shrine,
Is thrice more grateful, Lord! to thee,
Than lifted eye, or bended knee.

3 To doers only of the word,

Propitious is the righteous Lord;

He hears their cries, accepts their prayers,
And heals their wounds, and sooths their cares.

4 In true and genuine faith, we trace
The source of every Christian grace;
Within the pious breast it plays,
A living fount of joy and praise.

5 Kind deeds of peace and love betray
Where'er it winds its secret way;
But where these spring not, rich and fair,
The fount has never wandered there.

136. P. M.

+ Drummond.

Acquiescence in the Will of God.

1 AUTHOR of good! we rest on thee:
Thine ever-watchful eye

Alone our real wants can see,
Thy hand alone supply.

2 O let thy fear within us dwell,
Thy love our footsteps guide!
That love shall vainer loves expel;
That fear, all fears beside.

3 And since, by passion's force subdued,
Too oft with stubborn will,
We blindly shun the latent good,
And grasp the specious ill,-

4 Not what we wish, but what we want,
Let mercy still supply;

The good, unasked, O Father! grant,
The ill, though asked, deny.

137. 11 s. M.

Merrick.

'Prepare ye the Way of the Lord. Luke iii. 4.

1 A VOICE from the desert comes awful and shrill: The Lord is advancing; prepare ye the way! The word of Jehovah he comes to fulfil,

And o'er the dark world pour the splendour of day.

2 Bring down the proud mountain, though towering to heaven,

And be the low valley exalted on high;

The rough path and crooked be made smooth and

even,

For, Zion! your King, your Redeemer is nigh. 3 The beams of salvation his progress illume, The lone dreary wilderness sings of her God; The rose and the myrtle there suddenly bloom, And the olive of peace spreads its branches abroad.

+ Drummond.

138. L .M.

The Christian Warfare.

1 AWAKE, my soul! lift up thine eyes;
See where thy foes against thee rise
In long array, a numerous host;
Awake, my soul! or thou art lost.

2 Here giant danger threatening stands,
Mustering his pale, terrific bands;
There, pleasure's silken banners spread,
And willing souls are captives led.

3 See where rebellious passions rage,
And fierce desires and lusts engage;
The meanest foe of all the train
Has thousands and ten thousands slain.

4 Thou tread'st upon enchanted ground;
Perils and snares beset thee round;
Beware of all, guard every part,
But most, the traitor in thy heart.

5 Come then, my soul! now learn to wield
The weight of thine immortal shield;
Put on the armour from above

Of heavenly truth, and heavenly love.

6 The terror and the charm repel,

And powers of earth, and powers of hell:
The Man of Calvary triumphed here;
Why should his faithful followers fear!

Mrs. Barbauld.

139. L. M.

Personal Virtues.

1 AWAKE, my soul! rouse every power,
Thy native dignity display:

Let lust and passion reign no more,
No longer own their lawless sway.
2 Thy temper meek and humble be,
Content and pleased with every state;
From dire revenge and envy free,
And wild ambition to be great.

3 Confine thy roving appetites;

From this vain world withdraw thine eyes,
Fix them on those divine delights,
Reserved for saints above the skies.

4 With eager zeal pursue the prize;
Each fleeting hour of life improve:
This course will speak thee truly wise,
And raise thee to the world above.

140. C. M.

Browne.

Zeal and Vigour in the Christian Race. Phil. iii. 12—14.

1 AWAKE, my soul! stretch every nerve,
And press with vigour on:

A heavenly race demands thy zeal,
And an immortal crown.

2 A cloud of witnesses around
Hold thee in full survey:
Forget the steps already trod,
And onward urge thy way.

3 'Tis God's all-animating voice
That calls thee from on high;
'Tis his own hand presents the prize
To thine aspiring eye:—

4 That prize, with peerless glories bright,
Which shall new lustre boast,

When victors' wreaths and monarchs' gems
Shall blend in common dust.

5 My soul! with all thy wakened powers,
Survey the immortal prize;

Nor let the glittering toys of earth,
Allure thy wandering eyes.

Doddridge, transposed.

141. L. M.

Divine Majesty and Goodness in Storms and Rain. Ps. civ

1 AWAKE my soul! to hymns of praise; To God the song of triumph raise: Adorned with majesty divine,

What pomp, what glory, Lord! are thine.

2 Light forms his robe, and round his head
The heavens their ample curtain spread :
See on the wind's expanded wings
The chariot of the King of kings!

3 Around him ranged in awful state,
Dark silent storms attentive wait,
And thunders, ready to fulfil

The mandates of his sovereign will.

4 From earth's low margin to the skies,
He bids the dusky vapours rise;
Then, from his magazines on high,
Commands the imprisoned winds to fly.