'Tis thine to change the heart, To pour fresh life on ev'ry part, Dwell, therefore, in our hearts; 199. C. M. COM WATTS, altered. Another. NOME, Holy Spirit, heav'nly Dove, Kindle a flame of facred love In thefe cold hearts of ours. Look, how on earth we grov'ling lie, Nor can we lift our fouls on high In vain we tune our formal fongs, Hofannas languish on our tongues, Great God, and shall we ever live, Come, Holy Spirit, heav'nly Dove, GOD, what filken cords are thine! While pow'r, and truth, and love, combine Thou faw'ft us crush'd beneath the yoke Thy hand the iron bondage broke The guilt of twice ten thousand fins Comfort, thro' all this vale of tears, And glory of unnumber'd years Drawn by fuch cords, we onward move, 'Till round thy throne we meet ; And, captives in the chains of love, Embrace our conqu'ror's feet. 201. C. M. STEELE. Regeneration. H Unconcious of its load! TOW helpless guilty nature lies, The heart, unchang'd, can never rife The will perverfe, the paffions blind, Can ought beneath a pow'r divine "Tis thine the paffions to recall, To chafe the fhades of death away, A beam of heav'n, a vital ray, O change thefe wretched hearts of ours, And give them life divine! Then fhall our paffions and our pow'rs, Almighty Lord, be thine. 202. C. M. WATTS H. HOW Faith in Chrift. OW fad our state by nature is ! And fatan binds our captive fouls But there's a voice of fov'reign grace, O may we hear th' Almighty call, We would believe thy promise, Lord, To the bleft fountain of thy blood, Stretch out thine arm, victorious King, Poor, guilty, weak and helpless worms, Be thou our ftrength and righteoufuefs, Our Jefus, and our all. "TW 203. C. M. Moped Brown, A Faith's View of Chrift. WAS in an hour when wrath prevail'd, A fudden groan my ear affail'd, I turn'd; then wonder'd as I ftood I knew him, tho' his thorny crown No answer to my voice I heard, "Cease wretch, from vain inquiry rest, Thy fins have rent my bleeding breast, Trembling I fell, and kifs'd his wounds, I faw him smooth his killing frowns, "Rife, let thy heart its grief compofe, "He feels the burden of thy woes, 06 And dies to bid thee live." M |