S. M.

211

Repentance in View of Christ's Compassion. DID Christ o'er sinners weep,

And shall our cheeks be dry? Let floods of penitential grief

Burst forth from every eye. 2 The Son of God in tears!

The wondering angels see!
Be thou astonished, O my soul!

He shed those tears-for thee.
3 He wept-that we might weep-
Each sin demands a tear;-
In heaven alone no sin is found,
And there's no weeping there.

212

C. M.

DEAR Saviour! when my thoughts recall The wonders of thy grace,

Low at thy feet, ashamed, I fall,
And hide this wretched face.

2 Oh! while I breathe to thee, my Lord,
The humble, contrite sigh,
Confirm the kind, forgiving word,
With pity in thine eye!

3 Then shall the mourner at thy feet Rejoice to seek thy face;

And, grateful, own how kind-how sweet Is thy forgiving grace.

213

78.

DEPTH of mercy!-can there be
Mercy still reserved for me!
Can my God his wrath forbear?
Me, the chief of sinners spare?

2 I have long withstood his grace;
Long provoked him to his face;
Would not hear his gracious calls;
Grieved him by a thousand falls.
3 Yet how great his mercies are!
Me he still delights to spare;
Cries "How shall I give thee up?"
Lets the lifted thunder drop.
4 Jesus, answer from above-
Is not all thy nature love?
Wilt thou not the wrong forget?—
Lo, I fall before thy feet.
5 Now incline me to repent!
Let me now my fall lament!
Deeply my revolt deplore!
Weep, believe, and sin no more.

L. M.

214

Self-righteous Hopes renounced. NO more, my God-I boast no more Of all the duties I have done; I quit the hopes I held before, To trust the merits of thy Son. 2 Now, for the love I bear his name, What was my gain, I count my loss; My former pride I call my shame,

And nail my glory to his cross. 3 Yes-and I must and will esteem

All things but loss for Jesus' sake; Oh! may my soul be found in him,

And of his righteousness partake. 4 The best obedience of my hands

Dares not appear before thy throne,

But faith can answer thy demands,
By pleading what my Lord has done.

215

C. M.
Pardon implored.

PROSTRATE, dear Jesus, at thy feet,
A guilty rebel lies;

And upwards, to thy mercy-seat,
Presumes to lift his eyes.

2 If tears of sorrow would suffice To pay the debt I owe,

Tears should from both my weeping eyes In ceaseless torrents flow.

3 But no such sacrifice I plead

To expiate my guilt;

No tears, but those which thou hast shedNo blood, but thou hast spilt.

4 I plead thy sorrows, dearest Lord;
Do thou my sins forgive:
Thy justice will approve the word
That bids the sinner live.

216

L. M. 6 1.

FATHER of mercies-God of love!
Oh! hear a humble suppliant's cry;
Bend from thy lofty seat above,

Thy throne of glorious majesty:
Oh! deign to hear my mournful voice,
And bid my drooping heart rejoice.
2 I urge no merits of my own,

No worth, to claim thy gracious smile: No-when I bow before thy throne

Dare to converse with God awhileThy name, blest Jesus, is my pleaDearest and sweetest name to me!

3 Father of mercies-God of love! Then hear thy humble suppliant's cry; Bend from thy lofty seat above,

Thy throne of glorious majesty: One pardoning word can make me whole, And soothe the anguish of my soul. 217

S. M.

THOU Lord of all above,
And all below the sky,
Prostrate before thy feet I fall,
And for thy mercy cry.
2 Forgive my follies past,

The crimes which I have done;
Oh bid a contrite sinner live,
Through thine incarnate Son.
3 Guilt, like a heavy load,
Upon my conscience lies;
To thee I make my sorrows known,
And lift my weeping eyes.

4 The burden which I feel,
Thou only canst remove;
Do thou display thy pardoning grace,
And thine unbounded love.

5 One gracious look of thine

Will ease my troubled breast:
Oh! let me know my sins forgiven,
And I shall then be blest.

L. M.

Rest sought from the Burden of Sin.
AWAKED from sin's delusive sleep,
My heavy guilt I feel, and weep:
Beneath a weight of woes oppressed,
I come to thee, my Lord, for rest.

218

Now, from thy throne of bliss above, Shed down a look of heavenly love; That balm shall sweeten all my pain, And bid my soul rejoice again.

3 By thy divine, transforming power,
My ruined nature now restore;
And let my life and temper shine,
In blest resemblance, Lord, to thine.

C. M.

219

Rest sought from the Burden of Sin. LORD, I approach the mercy-seat, Where thou dost answer prayer; There humbly fall before thy feet, For none can perish there.

2 Thy promise is my only plea;
With this I venture nigh;
Thou callest burdened souls to thee,
And such, O Lord, am I.

3 Bowed down beneath a load of sin,
By Satan sorely pressed,

By war without, and fear within,
I come to thee for rest.

4 Be thou my shield and hiding-place; That, sheltered near thy side, may my fierce accuser face, And tell him-thou hast died.

5 Oh, wondrous love!-to bleed and die, To bear the cross and shame, That guilty sinners, such as I,

Might plead thy gracious name.