O that I could now adore him,
Like the heav'nly hoft above,
Who for ever bow before him,*
And unceafing fing his love;..
Happy fongfters:

When fhall I your chorus join?

249. C. M. STEELE.

Defiring Affurance of the Favor of God.

E

TERNAL fource of joys divine,
To thee my foul afpires:

O could I fay, "The Lord is mine,"
'Tis all my foul defires.

Thy fmile can give me real joy,
Unmingled and refin'd;
Subftantial blifs without alloy,
And lafting as the mind.

Thy smile can gild the fhades of woe,
Bid ftormy trouble cease;
Spread the fair dawn of heav'n below,
And sweeten pain to peace.

My Hope, my Truft, my Life, my Lord,
Affure me of thy love;

O fpeak the kind tranfporting word,
And bid my fears remove.

Then fhall my thankful pow'rs rejoice,
And triumph in my God,

Till heav'nly rapture tune my voice
To fpread thy praise abroad.

250.

Με

S. M. WATTS'S H.

Panting after God.

Y God, my life, my love,
To thee, to thee I call;

I cannot live if thou remove,
For thou art all in all.

Thy fhining grace can cheer
This dungeon where I dwell;
'Tis paradife when thou art here;
If thou depart, 'tis hell.

The fmilings of thy face,
How amiable they are!

"Tis heav'n to reft in thine embrace,

And no where else but there.

To thee, and thee alone,
The angels owe their bliss;
They fit around thy gracious throne,
And dwell where Jefus is.

Not all the harps above
Can make a heav'nly place,
If God his refidence remove,
Or but conceal his face.
Nor earth, nor all the tky
Can one delight afford :
No, not a drop of real joy
Without thy prefence, Lord.

Thou art the fea of love,

Where all my pleasures roll,

The circle where my paffions move, And centre of my foul.

Where do thy Flocks reft at Noon?

T

ELL me, Savior from above,
Deareft object of my love,
Where thy little flocks abide,
Shelter'd near thy bleeding fide?
Say, my fhepherd, all divine,
Where I may my foul recline?
Where for refuge fhall I fly,
While the burning fun is high?
Wilt thou let me run aftray,
Mourning, grieving, all the day?
Wilt thou bear to fee me rove,
Seek fome base and mortal love?

Never had I fought thy name,
Never felt the inward flame,
Had not love first touch'd my heart,
Gave the painful, pleasant smart.
Didft thou leave thy glorious throne,
Put a mortal raiment on,

As a curfed victim die,

For a wretch fo vile as I?

Tell me, fairest of the kind,
How to feek, and where to find ;
Where to find thy promis'd reft,

How to lean upon thy breaft.

Turn, and claim me as thine own;

Be my portion, Lord, alone :

Deign to hear a finner's call.

Be my everlasting all.

252. L. M. Lambeth T.

A Soul melted with Redeeming Love.

WHE
HEN on my beloved I gaze,
W se dazzling his beauties appear,

So

His charms fo traufcendently blaze,
The fight is too melting to bear !

When from my own vileness I turn
To Jefus, expos'd on the tree,
With fhame and with wonder I burn,
To think what he suffer'd for me.

My fins, oh how black they appear,

When in that dear bofom they meet! Those fins were the nails and the fpear, That wounded his hands and his feet.

'Twas juftice that wreath'd for his head The thorns that encircled it round. Thy temples, Immanuel, bled,

That mine might with glory be crown'd!

The wonderful love of his heart,
Where he has recorded my name,
On earth can be known but in part,
Heav'n only can bear the full flame.

In rivers of forrow it flow'd,

And flow'd in those rivers for me; My fins are all drown'd in his blood; My foul is both happy and free.

NOWE

TOW, in thy praise, eternal King, Be all my thoughts employ'd; Whilft of this precious truth I fing, "Caft down, but not deftroy'd." Oft the united pow'rs of hell My foul have fore annoy'd ; And yet I live, this truth to tell, "Caft down, but not deftroy'd."

In all the paths thro' which I've pass'd
What mercies I've enjoy'd'!

And this fhall be my fong at laft,
"Caft down, but not destroy'd."

When I, with God in heav'n appear,
There I shall him adore ;
Destroy'd shall be my fin and fear
And I caft down no more.

སྱཱ ན་ ་

F duft and afhes might prefume,

I Great God, to talk with thee;

If in thy prefence can be room
For finful worms, like me;

I humbly would my wish prefent,
For wishes 1 have none

All my defires are now content
To be compriz'd in one.