2 Tell me no more of ease and health,
Of pow'r and pomp, and fame and wealth,
For these have all their snares;

Let me but know my sins forgiven,
And feel the mystic joys of heaven,,
And I'll not envy theirs!

3 Tell me no more of lofty towers,
Delightful gardens, fragrant bowers,
For these are trifling things;
A little room, if Christ be there,
A splendid palace will appear,
Furnish'd with sacred things!

4 Tell me no more of crowded guests,
Of rich attire, and sumptuous feasts,
Extravagance and waste;

My little table's richly spread,
Tho' but with water, herbs, and bread
When Jesus is my Guest!

5 Give me the Bible in my hand,
A heart to read, and understand,
And faith and peace in God-
I'd sit alone from day to day,
And urge no company to stay,
Nor wish to rove abroad!

208.

Christ our Hiding Place.
Isaiah xxxii. 2.

L.M.

1 HAIL, Sov'reign Love, that first began

The scheme to rescue fallen man!
Hail, matchless, free, eternal grace,
That gave my soul a hiding place!

K

2 Against the God who rules the sky I fought, with hand uplifted high; Despised the mention of his grace, Too proud to seek a hiding place! 3 Enwrapt in thick Egyptian night, And fond of darkness more than light, Madly I ran the sinful race,

Secure without a hiding place!

4 But thus th' eternal council ran:

Almighty Love, arrest that man!”
I felt the arrows of distress,

And found I had no hiding place! 5 Indignant Justice stood in view; To Sinai's fiery mount I flew;

But Justice cried, with frowning face, "This mountain is no hiding place!" 6 Ere long an heav'nly voice I heard, And Mercy's angel form appear'd : She led me on, with placid pace, To Jesus as my hiding place!

7 Should storms of sevenfold thunder roll,
And shake the globe from pole to pole,
No flaming bolt could daunt my face,
For Jesus is my hiding place!

8 On him almighty vengeance fell,
That must have sunk a world to hell;
He bore it for the chosen race,
And thus became their hiding place!
9 A few more rolling suns, at most,
Will land me on fair Canaan's coast;
Where I shall sing the song of grace,
And see my glorious hiding place!

209.

Luther's Hymn on the Day of Judgment.

[The first of the following Stanzas was written by MARTIN LUTHER, and, with the musical notes usually attached, is generally known as LUTHER'S HYMN. In order to complete the subject, and render it appropriate for public worship, the three last Stanzas have been subsequently added.]

1 GREAT God-what do I see and hear?
The end of things created!
The Judge of mankind does appear,
On clouds of glory seated.

The trumpet sounds; the graves restore
The captives they contain'd before:
Prepare, my soul, to meet Him!

2 The mighty sea gives up her dead,
Her tides no more revolving;
The elements, convulsed, recede;
With fervent heat dissolving
The heav'ns departing like a scroll,
While flames through all creation roll,
Proclaim the Judge approaching!

3 Angelic myriads swell the train,
His second advent hymning,
Satanic legions drag the chain,

To darkness dire condemning. Assembled worlds his throne surround, From nature's birth to time's last bound, His righteous sentence waiting!

4 In that great day, at his right hand
May I assume my station,
And in his holy image stand

In robes of free salvation!

Then, while his frown the wicked dread,
Placid shall I lift up my head,
Prepared with joy to meet him!

210.

They shall be mine, saith the Lord.
Mal. iii. 16-18.

1 WHEN sinners utter boasting words,

And glory in their shame,

The Lord, well pleas'd, an ear affords
To those who fear his name.

2 They often meet to seek his face,
And what they do or say

Is noted in his book of

Against another day.

grace,

3 For they by faith a day descry,
And joyfully expect,

When he, descending from the sky,
His jewels will collect.

4 Unnotic'd now, because unknown,
A poor and suff'ring few;

He comes to claim them for his own,
And bring them forth to view.

C. M.

5 With transport then their Saviour's care And favour they shall prove;

As tender parents guard and spare
The children of their love.

6 Assembled worlds will then discern
The saints alone are blest;
When wrath shall like an oven burn,
And vengeance strike the rest.

1

2

3

5.

211.

The Close of the Year.

LET hearts and tongues unite,
And loud thanksgivings raise;
'Tis duty, mingled with delight,
To sing the Saviour's praise.
To him we owe our breath,
He took us from the womb,

Which else had shut us up in death,
́And prov'd an early tomb.

When on the breast we hung,
Our help was in the Lord;

S. M.

'Twas he first taught our infant tongue To form the lisping word.

When in our blood we lay He would not let us die, Because his love had fix'd a day

To bring salvation nigh.

In childhood and in youth

His eye was on us still,"

4

Though strangers to his love and truth,

And prone to cross his will.

6

And, since his name we knew,

How gracious has he been!

What dangers has he led us through!
What mercies have we seen!