« PreviousContinue »
All my little strength is gone,
Sink I must without supply;
the earth is none
In the ark the weary dove
Found a welcome resting-place,
Rest in Christ the ark of grace.
And the flood increases fast,
Till the storm be overpast.
Safely lodged within thy breast,
What a wondrous change I find !
Can compose a troubled mind.
Hearken to the gospel call;
Jesus will receive you all!
Come unto me and rest;
Thy head upon my breast.
Weary, and worn, and sad,
And he has made me glad.
I heard the voice of Jesus say,
Behold I freely give
Stoop down and drink and live.
Of that life-giving stream,
And now I live in him.
I am this dark world's light,
And all thy day be bright.
In him my Star, my Sun;
'Till travelling days are done.
My soul was troubled sore and fill'd with
pain; But then I thought on Jesus, and was glad,
My heavy grief was turn'd to joy again. I thought upon the law, the fiery law,
Holy, and just, and good in its decree; I look'd to Jesus, and in him I say
That law fulfill’d, its curse endured for me. I thought I saw an angry, frowning God,
Sitting as judge upon the great white throne; My soul was overwhelm’d,—then Jesus shew'd His gracious face, and all
dread was gone.
I saw my sad estate, condemn'd to die;
I saw the Cross, and read forgiveness there. I saw that I was lost, far gone astray,
No hope of safe return there seem'd to be ; But then I heard that Jesus was the Way,
A new and living way prepar'd for me. Then in that way, so free, so safe, so sure,
Sprinkled all o'er with reconciling blood, Will I abide and never wander more,
Walking along in fellowship with God.
45 I URNEY through a desert drear and
wild, Yet is my heart by such sweet thoughts be
guiled, Of Him on whom I lean, my strength, my stay, I can forget the sorrows of the way. Thoughts of his love,-the root of every grace, Which finds in this poor heart a dwelling
place; The sunshine of my soul, than day more bright, And my calm pillow of repose by night. Thoughts of his sojourn in this vale of tears ; The tale of love unfolded in those years Of sinless suffering and patient grace, I love again,-and yet again to trace.
Thoughts of his death;upon the Cross I gaze, And there behold its sad, yet healing rays; Beacon of hope, which lifted up on high, Illumes with heav'nly light the tear-dimm'd
eye. Thoughts of his coming ;-for that joyful day In patient hope I watch, and wait, and pray; The day draws nigh, the midnight shadows
flee; Oh! what a sun-rise will that advent be! Thus, while I journey on my Lord to meet, My thoughts and meditations are so sweet of him on whom I lean, my strength, my stay, I can forget the sorrows of the way. 46
ESUS, my Saviour, look on me!
For I am weary and oppress'd;
Thou art my Rest.
Thou art my Strength.
Thou art my Light.
Thou art my Rock.
When the accuser flings his darts,
Thou art my all.
When shall I find my willing heart
The love of Christ to me!
The first-born sons of light
The length and breadth and height.
In this poor stony heart:
Be mine this better part!