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90. Melchisedec a Type of Christ.
Gen. xiv. 18, 19.
ING of Salem, bless my soul!
Make a wounded sinner whole! King of righteousness and peace, Let not thy sweet visits cease! Come, refresh this soul of mine With thy sacred bread and wine! All thy love to me unfold, Half of which cannot be told! Hail Melchisedec divine! Thou great High-Priest shalt be mine; All my powers before thee fall, Take not tythe, but take them all! 91. The Struggle between Faith and
Unbelief. Mark ix. 24.
In thee, beli ving we rejoice;
Oh! let not sin and Satan boast,
Can Adam's sons arrive at heav'n: New works can give us no pretence
To have our ancient sins forgiv'n. Not the best deeds that we have done
Can make a wounded conscience whole: Faith is the grace, and faith alone,
That flies to Christ, and saves the soul. Lord, I believe thy heav'nly word,
Fain would I have my soul renew'd: I mourn for sin, and trust the Lord
To have it pardon'd and subdu’d. Oh! may thy grace its pow'r display;
Let guilt and death no longer reign: Save me in thine appointed way,
Nor let my humble faith be vain,
93. The humble Publican.
Luke xviii. 13.
ULVERSTON. LORD, with a griev'd and aching heart,
To thee I look-to thee I cry: Supply my wants, and ease my smart;
Oh! help me soon or else I die.
No human pow'r can it remove:
Do thou reveal thy pard’ning love!
From cruel bondage set me free; Rescue from everlasting pains,
And bring me safe to heay'n and thee!
94. Profession of Love to Christ.
No passion for thy charms ?
And dwell within his arms ?
In this cold heart of mine,
With friendship all divine ?
Can I pronounce his charming name,
His acts of kindness tell;
No sweet emotion feel?
What heart but must detest!
prove, Had I no love to thee: Rather than not my Saviour love,
Oh! may I cease to be!
95. Christian Love. Gal. iii. 28.
The Christian world o'erspread; Gentile and Jew, and bond and free,
Are one in Christ their head.
Let mutual love be found;
With mutual blessings crown'd.
away: Those should in strictest friendship dwell,
Who the same Lord obey.
Thus will the church below,
Resemble that above,
And every heart is love.
Patience. OLD HUNDREDTH. DEAR Lord, though bitter is the cup
Thy gracious hand deals out to me, I cheerfully would drink it up;
That cannot hurt which comes from thee. Dash it with thine unchanging love,
Let not a drop of wrath be there: The saints, for ever bless'd above,
Were often most afflicted here. From Jesus, thy incarnate Son,
I'll learn obedience to thy will; And humbly kiss the chast ning rod,
When its seyerest strokes I feel.
97. It is the Lord—let him do what
seemeth him good. 1 Sam. iii. 18.
Whose claims are all divine;
To govern me and mine.