The Sabbath. (P. M.)
AIL, peaceful morn! thy dawn I hail !
How do thy hours my mind regale
With feasts of heav'nly joy!
Nor can I half thy blessings name,
Which kindle in my soul a flame,
And all my pow'rs employ.
2 Thou hallow'd season of repose,
Thou balm to sooth the throbbing woes
Of this care-stricken breast:
Thy sacred hours I'll ever greet,
And with the faithful will I meet,
To taste thy holy rest.
3 How shall I best improve thy hours?
Lord, on me shed, in copious show'rs,
Thy spirit and thy grace!
That when thy sacred courts I tread,
My soul may eat the heavenly bread,
And sing Jehovah's praise!
4 May every sermon, like the dew,
Gently distil, refresh, renew,
And consolate the mind:
Receiv'd with meekness, truth, and love,
Engrafted, fruitful may it
And leave its joy behind.
5 Then to my chamber I'll repair,
With awe to talk with God in pray'r,
And all my griefs to tell:
His kind compassion will relieve,
His bounteous hand will mercies give,
With mourners he will dwell.
6 Thus may my Sabbath pass away,
My best, my holiest, happiest day,
The sweetest of the seven;
But yet a rest for saints remains,
A Sabbath free from cares and pains,
Eternal and in heav'n!
For a Spirit of Prayer. (P. M.)
[ESU, thou sovereign Lord of all,
The same through one eternal day,
Attend thy feeblest followers call,
And O instruct us how to pray!
Pour out the supplicating grace,
And stir us up to seek thy face!
2 We cannot think a gracious thought,
We cannot feel a good desire,
Till thou, who call'dst a world from nought,
The power into our hearts inspire;
And then we in the spirit groan,
And then we give thee back thy own.
3 Jesus, regard the joint complaint
Of all thy tempted followers here!
And now supply the common want,
And send us down the Comforter:
The spirit of ceaseless prayer impart,
And fix thy agent in our heart.
4 To help our soul's infirmity,
To heal thy sin-sick people's care,
To urge our God-commanding plea,
And make our heart a house of prayer;
The promis'd Intercessor give,
And let us now thyself receive.
5 Come in thy pleading Spirit down,
To us who for thy coming stay:
Of all thy gifts we ask but one,
We ask the constant power to pray :
Indulge us, Lord, in this request;
Thou canst not then deny the rest.
Christian Fellowship. (C. M.)
IVER of concord, Prince of peace,
Meek Lamb-like Son of God,
Bid our unruly passions cease,
O quench them with thy blood.
2 Rebuke the seas, the tempest chide,
Our stubborn will controul;
Beat down our wrath, root out our pride,
And calm our troubled soul.
30 let thy love our hearts constrain,
Jesus, the crucify'd;
What hast thou done our hearts to gain?
Languish'd, and groan'd, and dy'd!
4 Who would not now pursue the way,
Where Jesu's footsteps shine?
Who would not own the pleasing sway
Of charity divine!
5 0 let us find the ancient t way,
Our wond'ring foes to move,
And force the heathen world to say,
See how these Christians love!"
61. The Throne of Grace. (P. M.)
1 WHEN Hannah, press'd with grief,
Pour'd forth her soul in prayer;
She quickly found relief,
And left her burden there;
Like her, in every trying case,
Let us approach the throne of grace.
Though men and devils rage,
And threaten to devour:
The saints, from age to age,
Are safe from all their power;
Fresh strength they gain to run their race,
By waiting at the throne of grace!
Numbers before have tried,
And found the promise true;
Nor one been yet denied,
Then why should I or you?
Let us by faith their footsteps trace,
And hasten to the throne of grace.
Encouragement to Pray. (P. M.)
NCOURAG'D by thy word
Of promise to the poor,
Behold a beggar, Lord,
Waits at thy mercy's door;
No hand, no heart, O Lord, but thine,
Can help or pity wants like mine.
The beggar's usual plea
Relief from men to gain,
If offer'd unto thee,
I know thou would'st disdain;
And pleas which move thy gracious ear,
Are such as men would scorn to hear.
"Twere folly to pretend
I never begg'd before;
Or, if thou now befriend,
I'll trouble thee no more:
Thou often hast reliev'd my pain,
And often I must come again.
Nor can I willing be,
Thy bounty to conceal,
From others, who, like me,
Their wants and hunger feel;
I'll tell them of thy mercy's store,
And try to send a thousand more.
63. The Lord's Prayer, Paraphrased. (L. M.)
UR holy Father, all thy will,
We fain would perfectly fulfil,
But each has left thy law undone,
Unworthy to be call'd thy son.
2 Who art in heaven, enthron'd on high,
Diffusing glory from the sky,
Reigning above, on earth rever'd,
By saints belov'd, by sinners fear'd.
3 For ever hallow'd be thy name,
The triune God, the bright I AM;
At which seraphic choirs, and all
The hosts of heaven, adoring, fall.
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