Sidor som bilder

God of my life, I fly to thee

In a distressing day.
3 Should friends and kindred near and dear

Leave me to want or die,
My God would make my life his care,

And all my need supply.
4 My fainting flesh had died with grief,

Had not my soul believed
To see thy grace provide relief;

Nor was my hope deceived.
5 Wait on the Lord, ye trembling 'saints,

And keep your courage up;
He'll raise your spirit when it faints,

And far exceed your hope.

53. 10 & 11s M. WESLEY.

God will provide.
1 The earth is the Lord's, and all it contains ;

The truth of his word forever remains ;
The saints have a mountain of blessings in him,

His grace is the fountain, his peace is the stream, 2 To him our request we now have made known,

Who sees what is best for each of his own :
Our heathenish care, we cast it aside!
He heareth the prayer, and he will provide.

54. L. M. 61.

Fervent Vows and Petitions.
1 THEE will I love, my strength, my tower,

Thee will I love, my joy, my crown;
Thee will I love with all my power,
In all thy works, and thee alone:
Thee will I love, till the pure fire

Fill my whole soul with chaste desirc. 2 In darkness far from thee I strayed;

I sought thee, yet from thee I roved;
For wide my wandering thoughts were spread;
Thy creatures more than thee I loved ;
And now, if more at length.I see,

'T is through thy light, and comes from thee. 3 I thank thee, uncreated Sun,

That thy bright beams on me have shined ;

I thank thee, who hast overthrown
My foes, and healed my wounded mind;
I thank thee, whose enlivening voice
Bids my freed heart in thee rejoice.
4 Give to mine eyes refreshing tears ;

Give to my heart chaste, hallowed fires ;
Give to my soul, with filial fears,
The love that all heaven's host inspires ;
That all my powers, with all their might,
In thy sole glory may

5 Thee will I love, my Joy, my Crown,

Thee will I love, my Lord, my God;
Thee will I love, beneath thy frown,
Or smile, thy sceptre, or thy rod;
What though my flesh and heart decay ;
Thee shall I love in endless day!

55. S. M.

Seeking a Right Heart.
1 The thing my God doth hate,

That I no more may do,
Thy creature, Lord, again create,

And all my soul renew.
2 That blessed law of thine,

Father, to me impart;
The Spirit's law of life divine

O write it on my heart!
3 Implant it deep within,

Whence it may ne'er remove,
The law of liberty from sin,

The perfect law of love.
4 Thy nature be my law,

Thy spotless sanctity;
And sweetly every moment draw

My happy soul to thee.

56. C. M. MRS ROWE.

Renouncing all for God. 1 To thee, O God! my prayer ascends,

But not for golden stores ;
Nor covet I the brightest gems
That clothe the eastern shores :

2 Nor that deluding empty joy

Men call a mighty name;
Nor greatness, with its pride and state,

My restless thoughts inflame:
3 Nor pleasure's fascinating charms,

My fond desires allure;
But nobler things than these, from thee,

My wishes would secure.
4 The faith and hope of things unseen

My best affections move ;
Thy light, thy favour, and thy smiles,

Thine everlasting love:
5 These are the blessings I desire ;

Lord, be these blessings mine-
And all the glories of the world

I cheerfully resign.

57. L. M. WATTS.

A Sight of God mortifies us to the World. 1 Up to the fields, where angels lie,

And living waters gently roll,
Fain would my thoughts leap out and fly,

But sin hangs heavy on my soul. 2 Had I a glance of thee, my God,

Kingdoms and men would vanish soon;
Vanish, as though I saw them not,

As a dim candle dies at noon. 3 Then they might fight, and rage, and rave,

I should perceive the noise no more
Than we can hear a shaking leaf

While rattling thunders round us roar. 4 Great ALL in All, eternal King,

Let me but view thy lovely face,
And all my powers shall bow, and sing
Thine endless grandeur, and thy grace.

58. S. M. TOPLADY.

Weak Believers Comforted.
1 Your harps, ye trembling saints

Down from the willows take;
Loud to the praise of love divine

Bid every string awake.

2 Though in a foreign land,

We are not far from home; And nearer to our house above

We every moment come. 3 His grace will to the end

Stronger and brighter shine ;
Nor present things, nor things to come

Shall quench the love divine.
4 Soon shall our doubts and fears

Subside at his control; His loving kindness shall break through

The darkness of the soul. 5 Blest is the man, O God,

That stays himself on thee! Who waits for thy salvation, Lord,

Shall thy salvation see.


A Saint prepared to Die.
1 Death may dissolve my body now,

And bear my spirit home;
Why do my minutes move so slow,

Nor my salvation come? 2 With heavenly weapons I have fought

The battles of the Lord,
Finished my course, and kept the faith,

And wait the sure reward.
3 God has laid up in heaven for me

A crown which cannot fade;
The righteous Judge, at that great day,

Shall place it on my head.
4 Nor hath the king of grace decreed

This prize for me alone;
But all that love and long to see

The appearance of his Son.
60. C. M.

WATTS. Sick-bed Devotion. – Ps. 29. 1 God of my life, look gently down,

Behold the pains I feel ;

But I am dumb before thy throne,

Nor dare dispute thy will.
2 Diseases are thy servants, Lord;

They come at thy command;
I'll not attempt a murmuring word

Against thy chastening hand.
3 I'm but a sojourner below,

As all my fathers were;
May I be well prepared to go,

When I the summons hear.
4 But if my life be spared a while,
Before my

last reinove,
Thy praise shall be my business still,

And I'll declare thy love.


P. M. WESLEY. Blessedness of the Holy Dead. 1 How blest is our brother, bereft

Of all that could burden his mind!

easy the soul, that has left
This wearisome body behind !
Of evil incapable thou,
Whose relics with envy I see,
No longer in misery now,

No longer a sinner like me,
2 This earth is affected no more

With sickness, nor shaken with pain ;
The war in the members is o’er,
And never shall vex him again;
No anger henceforward, nor shame,
Shall redden his innocent clay,
Extinct is the animal flame,

And passion is vanished away.
3 This languishing head is at rest,

Its thinking and aching are o'er;
This quiet immoveable breast
Is heaved by affliction no more ;
This heart is no longer the seat
Of trouble, and torturing pain,
It ceases to flutter and beat,

It never shall flutter again.
4 T'he lids he so seldom could close,

By sorrow forbidden to sleep,
Now sealed in their mortal repose,
Havé strangely forgotten to weep;

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