271

L. M.

WEET is the light of Sabbath eve,

SWEE

And soft the sunbeams lingering there
For these blest hours the world I leave,
Wafted on wings of faith and prayer.

2 Season of rest! the tranquil soul

Feels the sweet calm, and melts in love;
And while these sacred moments roll,

Faith sees a smiling heaven above.

3 Nor will our days of toil be long :

Our pilgrimage will soon be trod;
And we shall join the ceaseless song,
The endless Sabbath of our God.

;

James Edmeston, 1820.

Salvation by Christ.

C. M.

272 HOW helpless guilty nature lies,

Unconscious of its load:

The heart unchanged can never rise
To happiness and God.

2 The will perverse, the passions blind,
In paths of ruin stray :
Reason debased can never find

The safe, the narrow way.

3 Can aught beneath a power divine

The stubborn will subdue?

'Tis Thine, Almighty Saviour, Thine
To form the heart anew.

4 'Tis Thine the passions to recall,
And bid them upward rise;
To make the scales of error fall
From reason's darkened eyes.

5 To chase the shades of death away,
And bid the sinner live,

A beam of heaven, a vital ray,
'Tis Thine alone to give.

6 O change these wretched hearts of ours,
And give them life divine:

Then shall our passions and our powers,
Almighty Lord, be Thine.

PSALM LI. L. M.

Anne Steele, 1760.

273 LORD, I am vile, conceived in sin,

And born unholy and unclean:

Sprung from the man whose guilty fall
Corrupts the race, and taints us all.

2 Behold, I fall before Thy face;
My only refuge is Thy grace;

No outward forms can make me clean;
The leprosy lies deep within.

3 No bleeding bird, nor bleeding beast,
Nor hyssop branch, nor sprinkling priest,
Nor running brook, nor flood, nor sea,
Can wash the dismal stain away.

4 Jesus, my God, Thy blood alone
Hath power sufficient to atone ;

Thy blood can make me white as snow;
No Jewish types could cleanse me so.
Isaac Watts, 1709.

S. M.

274 HOW heavy is the night

That hangs upon our eyes;
Till Christ, with His reviving light,
Over our souls arise!

2 Our guilty spirits dread

To meet the wrath of Heaven ;
But, in His righteousness arrayed,
We see our sins forgiven.

3 Unholy and impure

Are all our thoughts and ways;
His hands infected nature cure,

4

With sanctifying grace.

The powers of hell

agree

To hold our souls, in vain ;

He sets the sons of bondage free,
And breaks the cursed chain.

5 Lord, we adore Thy ways,

To bring us near to God;

Thy sovereign power, Thy healing grace,

And Thine atoning blood.

Isaac Watts, 1709.

S. M.

OT all the blood of beasts,

275 N°

On Jewish altars slain,

Could give the guilty conscience peace,

Or wash away the stain.

2 But Christ, the heavenly Lamb,

Takes all our sins away;

A sacrifice of nobler name,
And richer blood than they.

3 My faith would lay her hand
On that dear head of Thine,
While like a penitent I stand,

And there confess my sin.

4 My soul looks back to see
The burdens Thou didst bear,
When hanging on the cursed tree,
And hopes her guilt was there.

5 Believing, we rejoice

To see the curse remove ;

We bless the Lamb with cheerful voice,

And sing His bleeding love.

Isaac Watts, 1709.

S. M.

276 AH, how shall fallen man

Be just before his God?

If He contend in righteousness,
We fall beneath His rod.

2 If He our ways should mark
With strict inquiring eyes,
Could we for one of thousand faults,
A just excuse devise?

3 All-seeing, powerful God!

Who can with Thee contend? Or who that tries the unequal strife, Shall prosper in the end?

4 The mountains, in Thy wrath,
Their ancient seats forsake;

The trembling earth deserts her place,
Her rooted pillars shake.

5 Ah, how shall guilty man

Contend with such a God?

None, none can meet Him and escape,

But through the Saviour's blood.

Isaac Watts, 1709.

C. M.

277 LORD, how secure my conscience was,

And felt no inward dread;

I was alive without the law,

And thought my sins were dead.

2 My hopes of heaven were firm and bright; But since the precept came

With a convincing power and light,

I find how vile I am.

3 My guilt appeared but small before, Till I with terror saw

How perfect, holy, just, and pure,

Was Thine eternal law.

4 Then felt my soul the heavy load ;
My sins revived again :

I had provoked a dreadful God,
And all my hopes were slain.

5 My God! I cry with every breath,
For some kind power to save;
To break the yoke of sin and death,
And thus redeem the slave.

Isaac Watts, 1709.

278

How

C. M.

OW sad our state by nature is!
Our sin, how deep it stains!