I

Thy blood can cleanse my heart,

Thy hand can wipe my tears ;
Oh! send thy blessed Spirit down

To banish all my fears.
Then shall my soul arise,

From sin and Satan free;
Redeem'd from hell and every foe,

I'll trust alone in thee. 37

LAY my sins on Jesus,

The spotless Lamb of God;
He bears them all, and frees us

From the accursed load.
I bring my guilt to Jesus,

To wash my crimson stains,
White in his blood most precious,

Till not a spot remains.
I lay my wants on Jesus;

All fulness dwells in him ;
He heals all my diseases,

He doth my soul redeem.
I lay my griefs on Jesus,

My burdens and my cares ;
He from them all releases,

He all my sorrow shares.
I rest my soul on Jesus,

This weary soul of mine;
His right hand me embraces,

I on his breast recline.
I love the name of Jesus,

Immanuel, Christ, the Lord;
Like fragrance on the breezes

His name abroad is pour’d.

I long to be like Jesus,

Meek, loving, lowly, mild;
I long to be like Jesus,

The Father's holy child.
I long to be with Jesus,

Amid the heavenly throng,
To sing with saints his praises,

To learn the angels' song. 38

No

'Tis God that speaks the word; Perfect in comeliness art thou,

In Christ thy glorious Lord.
In heaven his blood for ever speaks,

In God the Father's ear;
His Church, the jewels, on his heart,

Jesus will ever bear.
No condemnation! precious word !

Consider it, my soul;
Thy sins were all on Jesus laid,

His stripes have made thee whole.
Teach us, O God, to fix our eyes

On Christ, the spotless Lamb,
So shall we love thy gracious will,

And glorify thy name. 39

!

0! joy to the opprest; Come unto me, ye weary,

And I will give you rest.

O come in all your weakness,

Ye sons of guilt and woe;
And learn of him with meekness,

Who stoop'd for us so low.
Ye slaves of servile error,

Wearied with fruitless pains,
Whose faith is doubt and terror,

Believe, and lose your chains.
Renounce the superstition

To Christ's light yoke preferr'd;
And turn from vain tradition

To his redeeming word.
Ye who the world have courted,

And suffer'd from its spite;
Ye who with sin have sported,

And felt its serpent-bite;
Come learn, your follies quitting,

That this world's gain is loss ;
To his mild rule submitting,

Who bare for you the cross.
O come, and make the trial;

His service is release.
If hard the self-denial,

Its fruit is joy and peace.
His grace, your souls defending,

Shall nerve you for the strife :
Peace all your steps attending;

The prize, immortal life. 40

HEN I survey the wondrous cross

On which the Prince of glory died, My richest gain I count but loss, And pour contempt on all my pride.

W"

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the cross of Christ my God:
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.
See from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down:
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o'er his body on the tree;
Then am I dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all !

a

41

ONG did I toil, and knew no earthly rest;

Far did I rove, and found no certain home; At last I sought them in his sheltering breast,

Who opes his arms and bids the weary come; In Christ I found a home, a rest divine, And I since then am his, and he is mine. Yes ! he is mine! and nought of earthly things Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or

power, The fame of heroes or the pomp of kings

Could tempt me to forego his love an hour; “Go, worthless world,” I cry, “with all that's

thine; Go, I my Saviour's am, and he is mine."

The good I have is from his stores supplied,

The ill is only what he deems the best; He for my friend, I'm rich with nought beside, And poor without him, though of all possest; Changes may come,-I take, or I resign, Content while I am his, and he is mine. Whate'er may change, in him no change is

seen, A glorious sun that wanes not, nor declines; Above the clouds and storms he walks unseen,

And sweetly on his people's darkness shines : All may depart,--I fret not nor repine, While I my Saviour's am, and he is mine. While here, alas ! I know but half his love,

But half discern him, and but half adore; But when I meet him in the realms above,

I hope to love him better, praise him more, And feel and tell amid the choir divino, How fully I am his, and he is mine. 42

OES the gospel word proclaim

D ?

Then, my soul, put in thy claim,

Sure that promise speaks to thee;
Marks of grace I cannot shew,

All polluted is my best;
Yet I weary am, I know,

And the weary long for rest.
Burden'd with a load of sin,

Harass'd with tormenting doubt,
Hourly conflicts from within,

Hourly crosses from without :