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Psalm civ. 3.
This trembling house of clay,
And long to fly away.
The whispers of his love ;
Where Jesus pleads above.
In life's fair book set down;
Eternal joys my own.
My sins on Jesus laid;
My debt of sufferings paid.
Whieh saves from second death;
His Spirit's quick'ning breath. 6 Sweet on his faithfulness to rest,
Whose love can never end; Sweet on his covenant of grace
For all things to depend. 7 Sweet, in the confidence of faith,
To trust his firm decrees; Sweet to lie passive in his hand,
And know no will but his.
8 If such the sweetness of the stream,
What must the fountain be, Where saints and angels draw their bliss,
Immediately from thee !
A Chamber Hymn.
1 What tho' my frail eyelids refuse
Continual watching to keep,
Demand the refreshment of sleep?
Unseen, yet for ever at hand,
Almighty to rule and command ! 2 From evil secure, and its dread,
Saviour is nigh,
Shall in the night season supply.
His grace as the dew shall descend;
The soul he delights to defend !
avow, My glad Ebenezer set up,
And own thou hast help'd me till now. I muse on the years that are past,
Wherein my defence thou hast prov'd; Nor wilt thou relinquish at last
A sinner so signally lov'd.
4 Inspirer and hearer of pray'r,
Thou feeder and guardian of thine, My all to thy covenant care
I sleeping and waking resign. If thou art my shield and my sun,
The night is no darkness to me; And, fast as the moments roll on,
They bring me but nearer to thee.
With whom he deigns to dwell!
His arm supports them well.
His throne of grace is near; And, when they plead his love and pow'r,
He stands engaged to hear.
Who trusted in his name;
His love is still the same.
Before our wond'ring eyes;
Nor aught beneath the skies.
And makes our burdens light;
And gilds the gloom of night.
6 Lord, we expect to suffer here,
Nor would we dare repine;
And own us still for thine.
Hannah, or the Throne of Grace.
6.8. 1 WHEN Hannah, press’d with grief,
Pour'd forth her soul in pray'r,
And left her burden there.
Her heart was pain'd and sad;
Was comforted and glad.
And threaten to devour,
Are safe from all their pow'r.
at the throne of grace.
How was her spirit mov'd
But Gud her cause approv'd.
Ś She was not filled with wine,
As Eli rashly thought,
Had found the aid she sought.
With troubled souls to bear;
Poor comforters they are:
Numbers before have try'd,
And found the promise true;
Then why should I or you?
And taint the morning air,
If the bright sun appear;
Praise for the Continuance of the Gospel.
Unite in praise for answer'd pray'r;