LORD, thy heavenly grace impart,
And fix my frail inconstant heart;
Henceforth my chief desire shall be,
To dedicate myself to thee;
To thee, my God, to thee.
Whate'er pursuits my time employ,
One thought shall fill my soul with joy,
That silent, secret thought shall be,
That all my hopes are fix'd on thee;
On thee, my God, on thee.
Thy glorious eye pervadeth space;
Thou'rt present, Lord, in every place;
And wheresoe'er my lot may be,
Still shall my spirit cleave to thee;
To thee, my God, to thee.
Renouncing every worldly thing,
Safe 'neath the covert of thy wing,
My sweetest thought henceforth shall be
That all I want, I find in thee;
In thee, my God, in thee.
HINE eye, Lord God, alone can see
The soul through every secret part;
The mystery of iniquity
Hid in the hollow of man's heart.
Myself unto myself reveal,
Light let me see in thy pure light;
The eye of unbelief unseal,
Change doubt to faith, and faith to sight.
By inward vision to discern
The misery of my low estate,
And from that sad disclosure learn
Life's hardest lesson, ere too late :-
Life's hardest lesson, but its best!
The source of all my ills to trace
Through the dark windings of my breast,
Or in the world's deceitful face.
How long, how far on pilgrimage
To Zion have I feign'd to go,
Yet went astray at every stage,
Snared or smit down by every foe!
Oh, let that narrow path be mine,
Which, level as the morning-ray,
Like it, shall upward tend, and shine,
From earth's faint dawn to heaven's full day.
GRANT me, Lord, myself to see;
Against myself to watch and pray;
How weak am I, when left by thee;
How frail, how apt to fall away !
If but a moment thou withdraw,
That moment sees me break thy law.
Saviour, the sinner's only trust,
To thee with trembling hope I call;
O raise the feeble from the dust,
And let me never, never fall:
Let not thy grace be given in vain,
Nor let me turn to sin again.
The pure and watchful mind bestow,
That trembles at the thought of sin;
Let me thy full salvation know,
O thou who didst the work begin;
Preserve me, lest I go astray,
And prove at length a castaway.
EARY of struggling with my pain,
Hopeless to burst this sinful chain,
At length I give the contest o'er,
And seek to free myself no more.
From my own works at last I cease,
God, who creates, must seal my peace;
Fruitless my toil, and vain my care,
Unless thy sovereign grace I share.
Lord, I despair myself to heal,
I see my sin, but cannot feel;
I cannot, till thy Spirit blow,
And bid the obedient waters flow.
'Tis thine a heart of flesh to give,
Thy gifts I only can receive;
Here then to thee I all resign,
To draw, redeem, and seal, is thine.
With simple truth to thee I call,
My light, my life, my Lord, my all:
I wait the moving of the pool,
I wait the word that speaks me whole.
Speak, gracious Lord, my sickness cure,
Make my infected nature pure;
Peace, righteousness, and joy impart,
And pour thyself into my heart.
NE there is above all others,
ONE Oh, how he loves!
His is love beyond a brother's,
Oh, how he loves!
Earthly friends may fail and leave thee,
This day soothe, the next day grieve thee,
But this friend will ne'er deceive thee,
Oh, how he loves!
Love this friend who died to save thee,
Oh, how he loves!
Dost thou love? he will not leave thee,
Oh, how he loves!
Think no more, then, of to-morrow,
Take his easy yoke and follow,
Jesus carries all thy sorrow,
Oh, how he loves!
All thy sins shall be forgiven,
Oh, how he loves!
Backward shall thy foes be driven,
Oh, how he loves!
Best of blessings he'll provide thee,
Nought but good shall e'er betide thee,
Safe to glory he will guide thee,
Oh, how he loves!
HERE is a fountain fill'd with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel's veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.
The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away.
Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
Till the whole ransom'd church of God
Be saved, to sin no more.
F'er since, by faith, I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die:
Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I'll sing thy power to save;
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave.
R. Let me hide myself in thee.
Let the water and the blood,
From thy riven side which flow'd,
Be of sin the double cure,-
Cleanse me from its guilt and power.
Not the labours of my hands
Can fulfil thy law's demands.
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears for ever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and thou alone.
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