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XLVIII. THE HIDDEN LIFE.

To tell the Saviour all my wants,
How pleasing is the task!
Nor less to praise him when he grants
Beyond what I can ask.

My labouring spirit vainly seeks
To tell but half the joy;
With how much tenderness he speaks,
And helps me to reply.

Nor were it wise, nor should I choose,
Such secrets to declare;

Like precious wines their taste they lose,

Exposed to open air.

But this with boldness I proclaim,

Nor care if thousands hear,
Sweet is the ointment of his name,
Not life is half so dear.

And can you frown, my former friends,
Who knew what once I was;
And blame the song that thus commends
The Man who bore the cross?

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It can bring with it nothing
But he will bear us through;
Who gives the lilies clothing

Will clothe his people too;
Beneath the spreading heavens
No creature but is fed;
And he who feeds the ravens

Will give his children bread.

Though vine nor fig-tree neither Their wonted fruit shall bear, Though all the field should wither, Nor flocks nor herds be there: Yet God the same abiding,

His praise shall tune my voice; For, while in him confiding, I cannot but rejoice.

L. TRUE PLEASURES.
LORD, my soul with pleasure springs
When Jesus' name I hear;
And when God the Spirit brings
The word of promise near:
Beauties too, in holiness,

Still delighted I perceive;
Nor have words that can express
The joys thy precepts give.

Clothed in sanctity and grace,
How sweet it is to see
Those who love thee as they pass,
Or when they wait on thee!
Pleasant too, to sit and tell

What we owe to love divine;
Till our bosoms grateful swell,
And eyes begin to shine.

Those the comforts I possess,

Which God shall still increase,
All his ways are pleasantness,

And all his paths are peace.
Nothing Jesus did or spoke,
Henceforth let me ever slight;
For I love his easy yoke,
And find his burden light.

LI. THE CHRISTIAN.

HONOUR and happiness unite

To make the Christian's name a praise; How fair the scene, how clear the light, That fills the remnant of his days!

A kingly character he bears,

No change his priestly office knows; Unfading is the crown he wears,

His joys can never reach a close.

Adorned with glory from on high,.
Salvation shines upon his face;
His robe is of the ethereal dye,

His steps are dignity and grace.

Inferior honours he disdains,

Nor stoops to take applause from earth; The King of kings himself maintains

The expenses of his heavenly birth.

The noblest creature seen below,

Ordained to fill a throne above; God gives him all he can bestow,

His kingdom of eternal love!

My soul is ravished at the thought! Methinks from earth I see him rise! Angels congratulate his lot,

And shout him welcome to the skies!

LII. LIVELY HOPE AND

GRACIOUS FEAR.

I WAS a grovelling creature once,
And basely cleaved to earth;
I wanted spirit to renounce

The clod that gave me birth.

But God has breathed upon a worm,
And sent me from above
Wings such as clothe an angel's form,

The wings of joy and love.

With these to Pisgah's top I fly,

And there delighted stand,
To view beneath a shining sky
The spacious promised land.

The Lord of all the vast domain
Has promised it to me,

The length and breadth of all the plain
As far as faith can see.

How glorious is my privilege!
To thee for help I call;

I stand upon a mountain's edge,
Oh save me, lest I fall!

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LIV. MY SOUL THIRSTETH
FOR GOD.

I THIRST, but not as once I did,

The vain delights of earth to share; Thy wounds, Emmanuel, all forbid

That I should seek my pleasures there. It was the sight of thy dear cross First weaned my soul from earthly things;

And taught me to esteem as dross

The mirth of fools and pomp of kings.

I want that grace that springs from thee,
That quickens all things where it flows,
And makes a wretched thorn like me
Bloom as the myrtle, or the rose.
Dear fountain of delight unknown!
No longer sink below the brim;
But overflow, and pour me down
A living and life-giving stream;

For sure of all the plants that share The notice of thy Father's eye, None proves less grateful to his care, Or yields him meaner fruit than I.

LV. LOVE CONSTRAINING
TO OBEDIENCE.

No strength of Nature can suffice
To serve the Lord aright:
And what she has she misapplies,
For want of clearer light.

How long beneath the law I lay
In bondage and distress;
I toiled the precept to obey,

But toiled without success.
Then to abstain from outward sin
Was more than I could do;
Now, if I feel its power within,

I feel I hate it too.

Then all my servile works were done
A righteousness to raise ;
Now, freely chosen in the Son,

I freely chuse his ways.

"What shall I do," was then the word,
"That I may worthier grow?"
"What shall I render to the Lord?"
Is my inquiry now.

To see the law by Christ fulfilled,
And hear his pardoning voice,
Changes a slave into a child,

And duty into choice.

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Much I fasted, watched, and strove, Scarce would show my face abroad, Feared almost to speak or move,

A stranger still to God.

Thus afraid to trust his grace,
Long time did I rebel;
Till despairing of my case,
Down at his feet I fell:
Then my stubborn heart he broke,
And subdued me to his sway;
By a simple word he spoke,
"Thy sins are done away."

LVII. HATRED OF SIN.

HOLY Lord God! I love thy truth,

Nor dare thy least commandment slight;

Yet pierced by sin, the serpent's tooth, I mourn the anguish of the bite.

But though the poison lurks within,

Hope bids me still with patience wait; Till death shall set me free from sin, Free from the only thing I hate.

Had I a throne above the rest,

Where angels and archangels dwell, One sin, unslain, within my breast, Would make that heaven as dark as hell.

The prisoner sent to breathe fresh air, And blessed with liberty again,

Would mourn were he condemnedto wear One link of all his former chain.

But, oh! no foe invades the bliss, When glory crowns the Christian's head;

One view of Jesus as he is

Will strike all sin for ever dead.

LVIII. THE NEW CONVERT. THE new-born child of Gospel grace, Like some fair tree when summer's nigh,

Beneath Emmanuel's shining face

Lifts up his blooming branch on high.

No fears he feels, he sees no foes,
No conflict yet his faith employs,
Nor has he learnt to whom he owes

The strength and peace his soul enjoys.

But sin soon darts its cruel sting,

And comforts sinking day by day, What seemed his own, a self-fed spring,

Proves but a brook that glides away.

When Gideon armed his numerous host,
The Lord soon made his numbers less;
And said, "Lest Israel vainly boast,
'My arm procured me this success.'

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Thus will he bring our spirits down, And draw our ebbing comforts low, That saved by grace, but not our own, We may not claim the praise we owe.

LIX. TRUE AND FALSE COMFORTS.

O GOD, whose favourable eye
The sin-sick soul revives,
Holy and heavenly is the joy
Thy shining presence gives.

Not such as hypocrites suppose,

Who with a graceless heart Taste not of thee, but drink a dose Prepared by Satan's art.

Intoxicating joys are theirs,

Who while they boast their light, And seem to soar above the stars, Are plunging into night.

Lulled in a soft and fatal sleep,

They sin and yet rejoice;
Were they indeed the Saviour's sheep,
Would they not hear his voice?

Be mine the comforts that reclaim
The soul from Satan's power;
That make me blush for what I am,
And hate my sin the more.

'Tis joy enough, my All in All,

At thy dear feet to lie;
Thou wilt not let me lower fall,
And none can higher fly.

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THE Lord receives his highest praise From humble minds and hearts sincere ;

While all the loud professor says
Offends the righteous Judge's ear.

To walk as children of the day,
To mark the precepts' holy light,
To wage the warfare, watch, and pray,
Show who are pleasing in his sight.
Not words alone it cost the Lord

To purchase pardon for his own;
Nor will a soul by grace restored

Return the Saviour words alone.

With golden bells, the priestly vest,
And rich pomegranates bordered
round,
The need of holiness expressed,

And called for fruit as well as sound.

Easy indeed it were to reach

A mansion in the courts above, If swelling words and fluent speech Might serve instead of faith and love. But none shall gain the blissful place, Or God's unclouded glory see, Who talks of free and sovereign grace, Unless that grace has made him free!

LXI. ABUSE OF THE GOSPEL.

Too many, Lord, abuse thy grace
In this licentious day,

And while they boast they see thy face
They turn their own away.

Thy book displays a gracious light

That can the blind restore;
But these are dazzled by the sight,
And blinded still the more.

The pardon such presume upon,
They do not beg, but steal;
And when they plead it at thy throne,
Oh! where's the Spirit's seal?

Was it for this, ye lawless tribe,

The dear Redeemer bled?
Is this the grace the saints imbibe
From Christ the living head?

Ah, Lord, we know thy chosen few
Are fed with heavenly fare;
But these, the wretched husks they
chew

Proclaim them what they are.

The liberty our hearts implore

Is not to live in sin;

But still to wait at Wisdom's door, Till Mercy calls us in.

LXII. THE NARROW WAY.

WHAT thousands never knew the road! What thousands hate it when 'tis known!

None but the chosen tribes of God Will seek or choose it for their own.

A thousand ways in ruin end,

One only leads to joys on high; By that my willing steps ascend, Pleased with a journey to the sky.

No more I ask or hope to find

Delight or happiness below;
Sorrow may well possess the mind
That feeds where thorns and thistles
grow.

The joy that fades is not for me,
I seek immortal joys above;
There glory without end shall be
The bright reward of faith and love.

Cleave to the world, ye sordid worms,

Contented lick your native dust! But God shall fight with all his storms Against the idol of your trust.

LXIII. DEPENDENCE.

To keep the lamp alive,
With oil we fill the bowl;

'Tis water makes the willow thrive, And grace that feeds the soul.

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LXIV. NOT OF WORKS. GRACE, triumphant in the throne, Scorns a rival, reigns alone; Come and bow beneath her sway, Cast your idol works away! Works of man, when made his plea, Never shall accepted be; Fruits of pride (vain-glorious worm!) Are the best he can perform.

Self, the god his soul adores, Influences all his powers; Jesus is a slighted name, Self-advancement all his aim: But when God the Judge shall come To pronounce the final doom, Then for rocks and hills to hide All his works and all his pride! Still the boasting heart replies, "What! the worthy and the wise, Friends to temperance and peace, Have not these a righteousness?" Banish every vain pretence Built on human excellence; Perish everything in man, But the grace that never can.

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