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2 Yes, in the Gospel's faithful lines, JEHOVAH's grace and mercy shines; There, dress'd in love, the SAVIOUR stands, With pitying eye, and outstretch'd hands.

3 Raise to the cross thy weeping eyes,
Behold! the Prince of glory dies!
He dies extended on the tree,
And sheds a sov'reign balm for me.
4 Millions, who now his throne surround,
Here sought relief, here mercy found;
His cross dispell'd their gloomy fears,
Heal'd all their wounds, and dried their

tears.

5 And shall my trembling soul complain, "I sought relief, but sought in vain? "That JESUS, who for sinners died; "Heard all my groans, and still denied?"

6 LORD, prostrate at thy feet I lie,
There to receive a cure or die;
Oh may thy love remove my pain,
And healing grace triumphant reign.

364. Troubled, but making the Lord his Refuge. C.M.

I will wait upon the LORD, that hideth his face from the house of Jacob, and I will look for him.-ISA. viii. 17.

DEAR refuge of my weary soul,
On thee, when sorrows rise,
On thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies.

2 To thee I tell each rising grief,
For thou alone canst heal;
Thy word can bring a sweet relief
For every pain I feel.

3 [But Oh! when gloomy doubts prevail,
I fear to call thee mine;
The springs of comfort seem to fail,
And all my hopes decline.

4 Yet, gracious LORD, where shall I flee? Thou art my only trust,

And still my soul would cleave to thee, Tho' prostrate in the dust.]

5 Hast thou not bid me seek thy face? And shall I seek in vain?

And can the ear of Sov'reign Grace,
Be deaf when I complain?

6 No; still the ear of Sov'reign Grace
Attends the mourner's prayer:
0

may I ever find access
To breathe my sorrows there!

7 Thy mercy-seat is open still:
Here let my soul retreat;
With humble hope attend thy will,
And wait beneath thy feet.

865. Cast down, get Trusting in the Lord. 8-7-4

Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope in GOD; for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my GOD.-PSALM xliii. 5.

O MY soul, what means this sadness?
Wherefore art thou thus cast down?
Let thy griefs be turned to gladness,
Bid thy restless fears be goue ;
Look to JESUS,

Thou by faith with him art one. 2 What tho' Satan's strong temptations Harass thee from day to day, And thy sinful inclinations Often fill thee with dismay; Thou shalt conquer, Thro' the Lamb's redeeming blood.

3 Tho' ten thousand ills beset thee
From without and from within;
JESUS saith, he'll ne'er forget thee,
But will save from hell and sin:
He is faithful

To perform his gracious word.

4 Tho' distresses now attend thee,
And thou tread'st the thorny road;
His right hand shall still defend thee,
Soon he'll bring thee home to GOD;
Therefore praise him,
Praise the great REDEEMER'S name.
5 0 that I could now adore him,
Like the heav'nly host above,
Who for ever bow before him,
And unceasing sing his love!
Happy songsters!
When shall I your chorus join?

366. Rejoicing in the Lord under Privations. Ss.

Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines, &c.-yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the GOD of my salvation.-HAB. iii. 17, 18.

AH! why this disconsolate frame?
Though earthly enjoyments decay,
Yet JESUS is ever the same,
A sun in the gloomiest day:
Though awhile I am cast in the fire,
'Tis only the gold to refine
And be it my simple desire,
Though suffering, not to repine.

;

2 What can be the pleasures to me,
Which earth in its fulness can boast?
Delusive its vanities flee,
Enjoy'd for a moment at most:

And, if the REDEEMER could part,
For me, with his throne in the skies,
Ah! why is so dear to my heart
What he in his wisdom denies?

3 Though riches to others be given,

Their corn and their vintage abound; Yet, if I have treasure in heaven, Where should my affections be found? Why stoop for the glittering sands Which they are so eager to share, Forgetting those wealthier lands That form my inheritance there? 4 Do thou, LORD, my spirit refine, My wand'ring affections recal; Then-be there no fruit in the vine, Deserted and empty the stall ; The long-labour'd olive may die, The field may no harvest afford; Yet under the gloomiest sky, My soul shall rejoice in her LORD.

5 Yea, let the rude tempest assail,
The blast of adversity blow;
The haven, though distant, I hail,
Beyond this rough ocean of woe.
When safe on the heavenly strand,
I'll smile at the billows that foam;
Kind angels will hail me to land,
And JESUS will welcome me home.

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