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2 Why should I shrink at thy command,

Whose love forbids my fears; Or tremble at thy gracious hand,

That wipes away my tears? 3 No! let me rather freely yield

What most I prize to thee,
Who never hast a good withheld,

Nor wilt withhold, from me.
4 Thy favour, all my journey through,

Thou art engag'd to grant; What else I want, or think I do,

'Tis better still to want.
5 Wisdom and mercy guide my way;

Shall I resist them both ?
A poor blind creature of a day,

And crush'd before the moth! 6 But, ah! my inmost spirit cries,

Still bind me to thy sway;
Else the next cloud that veils my skies

Drives all these thoughts away.

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Nevertheless I am not ashamed, &c.

2 Tim. i. 12.
1 I'm not asham'd to own my Lord,

Or to defend his cause,
Maintain the honour of his word,

The glory of his cross.
2 Jesus my God! I know his name,

His name is all my trust;
Nor will he put my soul to shame,

Nor let my hope be lost.

3 Firm as his throne his promise stands,

And he can well secure
What I've committed to his hands,

"Till the decisive hour.
4 Then will he own my worthless name

Before his Father's face,
And in the New Jerusalem

Appoint my soul a place.


Salvation by Grace. Eph. ii. 5.
1 Grace! 'tis a charming sound,

Harmonious to the ear!
Heav'n with the echo shall resound,

And all the earth shall hear. 2 Grace first contriv'd the way

To save rebellious man;
And all the steps that grace display,

Which drew the wondrous plan. 3 Grace first inscrib'd my name

In God's eternal book ; 'Twas grace that gave me to the Lamb,

Who all my sorrows took. 4 Grace led my roving feet

To tread the heav'nly road;
And new supplies each hour I meet,

While pressing on to God.
5 Grace taught my soul to pray,

And made my eyes o'erflow;
'Twas grace that kept me to this day,

And will not let me go.

6 Grace all the work shall crown,

Thro' everlasting days;
It lays in heav'n the topmost stone,

And well deserves the praise.


C. M.

1 Thou dear Redeemer, dying Lamb, ,

We love to hear of thee;
No music like thy charming name

Doth sound so sweet to me. 2 O may we ever hear thy voice

In mercy to us speak;
And in our Priest we will rejoice,

Thou great Melchizedek!
3 Our Jesus shall be stili our theme

While in this world we stay;
We'll sing our Jesu's lovely name

When all things else decay!
4 When we appear in yonder cloud,

With all the favour'd throng,
Then will we sing more sweet, more loud,

And Christ shall be our song!

C. M.


The good Shepherd.
1 With tender heart and gentle hand,

that never sleep,
Our Shepherd leads to Canaan's land

His weak and helpless sheep.

2 Of him they love to sing each day,

Of him they love to learn;
And, when he talketh by the way,

O how their bosoms burn!
3 A word from Jesus fires the heart,

And sweetly tunes the tongue;
Bids ev'ry anxious care depart,

And helps the feet along. 4 He knows his sheep, and tells their names,

And will not lose his own;
The bleating ewes and tender lambs

Are marked ev'ry one.
5 And Jesu's sheep their Shepherd know,

And follow out of choice;
They will not after strangers go,

Nor heed an hireling's voice.

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93. I am the vine, ye are the branches. i Jesus immutably the same,

That true and living Vine! Around thy all-supporting stem

My feeble arms I twine. 2 Quicken'd by thee, and kept alive,

I flourish and bear fruit; My life I from thy sap derive,

My vigour from thy root. 3 I can do nothing without thee,

My strength is wholly thine; Wither'd and barren should I be,

If sever'd from the Vine.

4 Upon my leaf, when parch'd with heat,

Refreshing dew shall drop;
The plant which thy right hand hath set

Shall ne'er be rooted up.
5 Each moment water'd by thy care,

And fenc'd with pow'r divine,
Fruit to eternal life shall bear

The feeblest branch of thine.

94. The very hairs of your head are all numbered. Matt. x. 30, 31.

8. 6. i How watchful is the loving Lord, How sweet his providential word

To children that believe!
Your very hairs are number'd all,
Not one by chance or force can fall

Without your Father's leave.
2 Why should I fear when guarded so,
Why shrink to meet a deadly foe,

Or dread the lion's roar?
The Lord is my almighty friend,
And he will keep me to the end

By his sufficient pow'r.
3 No cross or bliss, no loss or gain,
No health or sickness, ease or pain,

Can give themselves a birth;
The Lord so rules by his command,
Nor good nor ill can stir a hand,

Unless he sends them forth.

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