No fatal shipwreck shall I fear,
But all my treasures with me bear.
4 If thou, my SAVIOUR! still art nigh,
Cheerful I live, and joyful die;
Secure, when mortal comforts flee,
To find ten thousand worlds in thee.

330. Conflict. C.M.

The flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would.-GAL. v. 17.

WHAT diff'rent pow'rs of grace and sin
Attend our mortal state!

I hate the thoughts that work within,
And do the works I hate.

2 Now I complain, and groan, and die, While sin and Satan reign:

Now raise my songs of triumph high,
For grace prevails again.

3 Thus will the flesh and Spirit strive,
And vex and break my peace;
But I shall quit this mortal life,
And sin for ever cease.

4 O Lord, assist me thro' the fight,
My drooping spirit raise;

Make me triumphant in thy might,
And thine shall be the praise.

331. Conflict. L.M.

Lord, I believe: help thou mine unbelief.-MARK

ix. 24.

JESUS, our soul's delightful choice, In thee believing we rejoice; Yet still our joy is mix'd with grief; While faith contends with unbelief. 2 Thy promises our hearts revive, And keep our fainting hopes alive; But guilt and fears and sorrows rise, And hide the promise from our eyes. 3 0 let not sin and Satan boast,

While saints lie mourning in the dust;
Nor see that faith to ruin brought,
Which thy own gracious hand hath
wrought.

4 Do thou the dying spark inflame;
Reveal the glories of thy name:
O put all anxious doubts to flight,
And lead us on t' eternal light!

332. Conflict. 7s.

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden; and I will give you rest.-MATT. xi. 28.

DOES the gospel-word proclaim
Rest for those, who weary be?
Then, my soul, put in thy claim,
Sure that promise speaks to thee.

Boast I good in thought or deed?
Sin pollutes my very best;
Yet I weary am, I plead,

And the weary long for rest.

:

2 Burden'd with a load of sin,
Harass'd with tormenting donbt;
Hourly conflicts from within,
Hourly crosses from without
All my little strength is gone,
Sink I must, without supply;
Sure upon the earth is none
Can more weary be than I.

3 In the ark, the weary dove
Found a welcome resting-place;
Thus my spirit longs to prove
Rest in CHRIRT, the ark of grace.
Tempest-toss'd I long have been,
And the flood increases fast;
Open, Lord, and take me in,
Till the storm be overpast.

4 Safely lodg'd within thy breast,
What a wondrous change I find!
Now I know thy promis'd rest
Can compose a troubled mind.
You that weary are like me,
Hearken to the gospel call;
To the ark for refuge flee,
JESUS will receive you all!

338. Conflict. 112th.

The flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh and these are contrary the one to the other; so that ye cannot do the things that ye would.-Gal. v. 17.

STRANGE and mysterious is my life,
What opposites I feel within!
A stable peace, a constant strife;
The rule of grace, the pow'r of sin;
Too often I am captive led,
Yet daily triumph in my head.

2 I prize the privilege of pray'r,

But oh! what backwardness to pray!
Though on the Lord I cast my care,
I feel its burden ev'ry day ;

I seek his will in all I do,

Yet find my own is working too.

3 I love the holy day of rest,

When JESUS meets his gather'd
saints;

Sweet day, of all the week the best!
For its return my spirit pants:
Yet often, through my unbelief,
It proves a day of guilt and grief.
4 While on my SAVIOUR I rely,

I know my foes shall lose their aim;
And therefore dare their pow'r defy,
Assur'd of conquest through his

name.

But soon my confidence is slain,
And all my fears return again.

5 Thus diff'rent pow'rs within me strive, And grace and sin by turns prevail ; 1 grieve, rejoice, decline, revive,

And vict'ry hangs in doubtful scale :
But JESUS has his promise past,
That grace shall overcome at last.

334. Conflict. 7-6-8.

Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit. PSALM li. 12.

JESUS, friend of sinners, hear
A feeble creature pray,
From my debt of sin set clear,
For I have nought to pay.
Speak, O speak my kind release;
A poor backsliding soul restore;
Love me freely, seal my peace,
And bid me sin no more.

2 Though my sins as mountains rise,
And swell, and reach to heav'n,
Mercy is above the skies,

And I shall stand forgiv'n.
Mighty is my guilt's increase,
But greater is thy mercy's store;
Love me freely, &c.

3 From th' oppressive sense of sin
My struggling spirit free;
Blood and righteousness divine
Can rescue even me;