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By whom was David taught
To aim the deadly blow,
When he Goliath fought,

And laid the Gittite low?

Nor sword nor spear the stripling took,
But chose a pebble from the brook.

'Twas Israel's God and King
Who sent him to the fight;
Who gave him strength to sling,
And skill to aim aright.

Ye feeble saints, your strength endures,
Because young David's God is yours.

Who ordered Gideon forth

To storm the invaders' camp,
With arms of little worth,

A pitcher and a lamp?

The trumpets made his coming known, And all the host was overthrown.

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No drop remains of all the curse,
For wretches who deserved the whole;
No arrows dipt in wrath to pierce
The guilty, but returning soul.

Peace by such means so dearly bought,
What rebel could have hoped to see?
Peace, by his injured Sovereign wrought,
His Sovereign fastened to a tree.

Now, Lord, thy feeble worm prepare! For strife with earth and hell begins; Confirm and gird me for the war;

They hate the soul that hates his sins. Let them in horrid league agree!

They may assault, they may distress; But cannot quench thy love to me,

Nor rob me of the Lord my peace.

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Unfathomable wonder,

And mystery divine! The Voice that speaks in thunder, Says, "Sinner, I am thine !"

VII. VANITY OF THE WORLD. GOD gives his mercies to be spent ; Your hoard will do your soul no good; Gold is a blessing only lent,

Repaid by giving others food. The world's esteem is but a bribe, To buy their peace you sell your own; The slave of a vain-glorious tribe, Who hate you while they make you known.

The joy that vain amusements give, Oh! sad conclusion that it brings ! The honey of a crowded hive,

Defended by a thousand stings.

'Tis thus the world rewards the fools
That live upon her treacherous smiles;
She leads them blindfold by her rules,
And ruins all whom she beguiles.
God knows the thousands who go down
From pleasure into endless woe:
And with a long despairing groan
Blaspheme their Maker as they go.
O fearful thought! be timely wise;
Delight but in a Saviour's charms,
And God shall take you to the skies,
Embraced in everlasting arms.

VIII. O LORD, I WILL PRAISE
THEE. Isaiah xii. I.

I WILL praise thee every day
Now thine anger's turned away;
Comfortable thoughts arise
From the bleeding sacrifice.

Here, in the fair Gospel-field,
Wells of free salvation yield
Streams of life, a plenteous store,
And my soul shall thirst no more.
Jesus is become at length

My salvation and my strength;
And his praises shall prolong,
While I live, my pleasant song.

Praise ye, then, his glorious name, Publish his exalted fame!

Still his worth your praise exceeds;
Excellent are all his deeds.

Raise again the joyful sound,
Let the nations roll it round!
Zion, shout! for this is he;
God the Saviour dwells in thee!

IX. THE CONTRITE HEART.
Isaiah lvii. 15.

THE Lord will happiness divine
On contrite hearts bestow;
Then tell me, gracious God, is mine
A contrite heart, or no?

I hear, but seem to hear in vain,
Insensible as steel;

If aught is felt, 'tis only pain,
To find I cannot feel.

I sometimes think myself inclined
To love thee, if I could ;
But often feel another mind,

Averse to all that's good.

My best desires are faint and few,
I fain would strive for more ;
But when I cry, "My strength renew!"
Seem weaker than before.

Thy saints are comforted, I know,
And love thy house of prayer;
I therefore go where others go,
But find no comfort there.

Oh make this heart rejoice or ache;
Decide this doubt for me;
And if it be not broken, break,-
And heal it if it be.

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"There, like streams that feed the garden,
Pleasures without end shall flow;
For the Lord, your faith rewarding,
All his bounty shall bestow;
Still in undisturbed possession
Peace and righteousness shall reign
Never shall you feel oppression,

Hear the voice of war again.

"Ye no more your suns descending, Waning moons no more shall see ; But, your griefs for ever ending,

ye,

Find eternal noon in me :
God shall rise, and shining o'er
Change to day the gloom of night;
He, the Lord, shall be your glory,
God your everlasting light.'

XI. JEHOVAH OUR RIGHT-
EOUSNESS. Jer. xxiii. 6.
My God, how perfect are thy ways!
But mine polluted are;
Sin twines itself about my praise,
And slides into my prayer.

When I would speak what thou hast done
To save me from my sin,

I cannot make thy mercies known,
But self-applause creeps in.

Divine desire, that holy flame
Thy grace creates in me;
Alas! impatience is its name,
When it returns to thee.

This heart, a fountain of vile thoughts, How does it overflow,

While self upon the surface floats,

Still bubbling from below!

Let others in the gaudy dress

Of fancied merit shine; The Lord shall be my righteousness, The Lord for ever mine.

XII. EPHRAIM REPENTING.
Jer. xxxi. 18-20.

My God, till I received thy stroke,
How like a beast was I!
So unaccustomed to the yoke,
So backward to comply.

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XIII. THE COVENANT.
Ezek. xxxvi. 25-28.

THE Lord proclaims his grace abroad!
'Behold, I change your hearts of stone;
Each shall renounce his idol-god,

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And serve, henceforth, the Lord alone.

'My grace, a flowing stream, proceeds
To wash your filthiness away;
Ye shall abhor your former deeds,
And learn my statutes to obey.

"My truth the great design ensures,
I give myself away to you;
You shall be mine, I will be yours,
Your God unalterably true.

"Yet not unsought, or unimplored,
The plenteous grace shall I confer;
No-your whole hearts shall seek the
Lord,

I'll put a praying spirit there.

"From the first breath of life divine,
Down to the last expiring hour,
The gracious work shall all be mine,
Begun and ended in my power."

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Then in a nobler, sweeter song,

I'll sing thy power to save; When this poor lisping, stammering tongue

Lies silent in the grave.

Lord, I believe thou hast prepared
(Unworthy though I be)

For me a blood-bought free reward,
A golden harp for me!

'Tis strung and tuned for endless years,
And formed by power divine,
To sound in God the Father's ears
No other name but thine.

XVI. THE SOWER. Matt. xiii. 3.
YE sons of earth, prepare the plough,
Break up your fallow-ground;
The sower is gone forth to sow,

And scatter blessings round.

The seed that finds a stony soil
Shoots forth a hasty blade;
But ill repays the sower's toil,

Soon withered, scorched, and dead.

The thorny ground is sure to balk
All hopes of harvest there;
We find a tall and sickly stalk,
But not the fruitful ear.

The beaten path and highway side
Receive the trust in vain;
The watchful birds the spoil divide,
And pick up all the grain.

But where the Lord of grace and power
Has blessed the happy field,
How plenteous is the golden store
The deep-wrought furrows yield!

Father of mercies, we have need
Of thy preparing grace;
Let the same hand that gives the seed
Provide a fruitful place!

XVII. THE HOUSE OF PRAYER.
Mark xi. 17.

THY mansion is the Christian's heart, O Lord, thy dwelling-place secure! Bid the unruly throng depart,

And leave the consecrated door.

Devoted as it is to thee,

A thievish swarm frequents the place; They steal away my joys from me, And rob my Saviour of his praise.

There, too, a sharp designing trade

Sin, Satan, and the World maintain; Nor cease to press me, and persuade To part with ease, and purchase pain.

I know them, and I hate their din;

Am weary of the bustling crowd; But while their voice is heard within, I cannot serve thee as I would.

Oh for the joy thy presence gives, What peace shall reign when thou art here!

Thy presence makes this den of thieves

Á calm delightful house of prayer.
And if thou make thy temple shine,
Yet, self-abased, will I adore;
The gold and silver are not mine;
I give thee what was thine before.

XVIII. LOVEST THOU ME?
John xxi. 16.

HARK, my soul! it is the Lord;
'Tis thy Saviour, hear his word;
Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee,
'Say, poor sinner, lovest thou me?

"I delivered thee when bound,
And when bleeding, healed thy wound;
Sought thee wandering, set thee right;
Turned thy darkness into light.

"Can a woman's tender care
Cease towards the child she bare?
Yes, she may forgetful be,
Yet will I remember thee.

"Mine is an unchanging love, Higher than the heights above, Deeper than the depths beneath, Free and faithful, strong as death.

"Thou shalt see my glory soon, When the work of grace is done; Partner of my throne shalt be;Say, poor sinner, lovest thou me?"

Lord, it is my chief complaint, That my love is weak and faint; Yet I love thee and adore,

Oh! for grace to love thee more!

XIX. CONTENTMENT. Phil. iv. II.
FIERCE passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea;
But calm content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to thee.

In vain by reason and by rule
We try to bend the will;
For none but in the Saviour's school
Can learn the heavenly skill.
Since at his feet my soul has sate,
His gracious words to hear,
Contented with my present state,
I cast on him my care.

"Art thou a sinner, soul?" he said,

"Then how canst thou complain? How light thy troubles here, if weighed With everlasting pain!

"If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured, Compare thy griefs with mine; Think what my love for thee endured, And thou wilt not repine.

""Tis I appoint thy daily lot,

And I do all things well;

Thou soon shalt leave this wretched

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