5 But, oh! no foe invades the bliss,
When glory crowns the Christian's head;
One view of Jesus as he is,
Will strike all sin for ever dead.
1 QUIET, Lord, my froward heart,
Make me teachable and mild,
Upright, simple, free from art,
Make me as a weaned child:
From distrust and envy free,
Pleas'd with all that pleases thee.
2 What thou shalt to-day provide,
Let me as a child receive;
What to-morrow may betide,
Calmly to thy wisdom leave:
"Tis enough that thou wilt care,
Why should I the burden bear?
3 As a little child relies
On a care beyond his own;
Knows he's neither strong nor wise;
Fears to stir a step alone:
Let me thus with thee abide,
As my Father, Guard, and Guide.
4 Thus preserv'd from Satan's wiles,
Safe from dangers, free from fears,
May I live upon thy smiles,
Till the promis'd hour appears,
When the sons of God shall prove
All their Father's boundless love,
Psal. exxxi. 2.; Matt. xviii. 3, 4.
LXVI. True Happiness.
1 Fix my heart and eyes on thine!
What are other objects worth?
But to see thy glory shine,
Is a heav'n begun on earth:
Trifles can no longer move,
Oh! I tread on all beside,
When I feel my Saviour's love,
And remember how he dy'd.
2 Now my search is at an end,
Now my wishes rove no more!
Thus my moments I would spend,
Love, and wonder, and adore:
Jesus, source of excellence!
All thy glorious love reveal!
Kingdoms shall not bribe me hence,
While this happiness I feel.
3 Take my heart, 'tis all thine own,
To thy will my spirit frame?
Thou shalt reign, and thou alone,
Over all I have, or am:
If a foolish thought shall dare
To rebel against thy word,
Slay it, Lord, and do not spare,
Let it feel thy Spirit's sword.
4 Making thus the Lord my choice,
I have nothing more to choose,
But to listen to thy voice,
And my will in thine to lose:
Thus, whatever may betide,
I shall safe and happy be;
Still content and satisfy'd,
Having all, in having thee.
LXVII. The Happy Debtor.
1 TEN thousand talents once I ow'd,
And nothing had to pay;
But Jesus freed me from the load,
And wash'd my debt away.
2 Yet since the Lord forgave my sin,
And blotted out my score;
Much more indebted I have been,
Than e'er I was before.
3 My guilt is cancell'd quite, I know,
And satisfaction made;
But the vast debt of love I owe,
Can never be repaid.
4 The love I owe for sin forgiv'n,
For power to believe,
For present peace, and promis'd heav'n,
No angel can conceive.
5 That love of thine, thou sinner's Friend! Witness thy bleeding heart!
My little all can ne'er extend
To pay a thousandth part.
6 Nay more, the poor returns I make
I first from thee obtain ';
And 'tis of grace, that thou wilt take
Such poor returns again.
7 'Tis well-it shall my glory be
(Let who will boast their store) In time and to eternity,
To owe thee more and more.
Book I. Hymns 27, 50, 70, 93, 122.
Book II. Hymns 23, 90.
-LXVIII. C. The New Convert.
1 THE new-born child of Gospel grace,
Like some fair tree when summer's nigh,
Bencath Immanuel's shining face,
Lifts up his blooming branch on high.
2 No fears he feels, he sees no foes,
No conflict yet his faith employs,
Nor has he learnt to whom he owes,
The strength and peace his soul enjoys.
3 But sin soon darts its cruel sting,
And comforts sinking day by day;
What seem'd his own, a self-fed spring,
Proves but a brook that glides away.
4 When Gideon arm'd his num'rous host, The Lord soon made his numbers less; And said, lest Israel vainly boast",
My arm procur'd me this success."
5 Thus will he bring our spirits down, And draw our ebbing comforts low, That sav'd by grace, but not our own, We may not claim the praise we owe.
LXIX. C. True and false Comforts.
1 O GOD, whose favourable eye
The sin-sick soul revives,
Holy and heav'nly is the joy
Thy shining presence gives.
2 Not such as hypocrites suppose,
Who, with a graceless heart,
Taste not of thee, but drink a dose,
Prepar'd by Satan's art.
3 Intoxicating joys are theirs,
Who, while they boast their light, And seem to soar above the stars, Are plunging into night.
4 Lull'd in a soft and fatal sleep,
They sin, and yet rejoice;
Were they indeed the Saviour's sheep,
Would they not hear his voice?
5 Be mine the comforts that reclaim
The soul from Satan's pow'r;
That make me blush for what I am,
And hate my sin the more.
6 'Tis joy enough, my All in All,
At thy dear feet to lie;
Thou wilt not let me lower fall,
And none can higher fly.
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