WITH holy fear and humble song,
The dreadful God our souls adore:
Reverence and awe become the tongue
That speaks the terrors of his power.
2 Far in the deep, where darkness dwells,
The land of horror and despair,
Justice has built a dismal hell,
And laid her stores of vengeance there.
3 There guilty ghosts of Adam's race
Shriek out, and howl beneath thy rod:
Once they could scorn a Saviour's grace,
But they incensed a dreadful God.
4 Tremble, my soul, and kiss the Son;
Sinner, obey thy Saviour's call;
Else thy damnation hastens on,
And hell gapes wide to wait thy fall.
My thoughts on awful subjects roll;
Damnation and the dead:
What horrors seize the guilty soul
Upon a dying bed!
2 Lingering about these mortal shores,
She makes a long delay,
Till, like a flood, with rapid force
Death sweeps the wretch away.
3 Then swift and dreadful she descends
Down to the fiery coast,
Amongst abominable fiends,
Herself for ever lost.
4 There endless crowds of sinners lie,
And darkness makes their chains;
Tortured with keen despair they cry,
Yet wait for fiercer pains.
5 Not all their anguish and their blood
For their old guilt atones;
Nor the compassion of a God
Shall hearken to their groans.
6 Amazing grace! that kept my breath,
Nor bid my soul remove,
Till I had learn'd my Saviour's death,
And well insured his love.
I'LL praise my Maker while I've breath;
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my nobler powers:
My days of praise shall ne'er be past,
While life, and thought, and being last,
Or immortality endures.
2 Happy the man whose hopes rely
On Israel's God; he made the sky,
And earth, and seas, with all their train:
His truth for ever stands secure:
He saves the oppress'd, he feeds the poor,
And none shall find his promise vain.
3 The Lord pours eye-sight on the blind;
The Lord supports the fainting mind:
He sends the labouring conscience peace:
He helps the stranger in distress,
The widow, and the fatherless;
And grants the prisoner sweet release.
4 I'll praise him while he lends me breath; And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall employ my nobler powers: My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last, Or immortality endures.
MEET and right it is to praise
God, the giver of all grace;
God, whose mercies are bestow'd
On the evil and the good:
He prevents his creatures' call,
Kind and merciful to all:
Makes his sun on sinners rise;
Showers his blessings from the skies.
2 Least of all thy creatures, we
Daily thy salvation see;
As by heavenly manna fed;
Through a world of dangers led;
Through a wilderness of cares;
Through ten thousand, thousand snares;
More than now our hearts conceive;
More than we could know, and live!
3 Here, as in the lion's den,
Undevour'd we yet remain;
Pass secure the watery flood,
Hanging on the arm of God:
Here we raise our voices higher,
Shout in the refiner's fire:
Clap our hands amidst the flame,
Glory give to Jesus' name.
4 Jesus' name, in Satan's hour,
Stands our adamantine tower;
Jesus does his own defend;
Love and save us to the end.
Love shall make us persevere,
Till our conquering Lord appear;
Bear us to the thrones above,
Crown us with his heavenly love.
O GOD, my God, my all thou art!
Ere shines the dawn of rising day,
Thy sovereign light within my heart,
Thy all-enlivening power display.
2 For thee my thirsty soul does pant,
While in this desert land I live;
And hungry as I am, and faint,
Thy love alone can comfort give.
3 More dear than life itself, thy love
My heart and tongue shall still employ;
And to declare thy praise, will prove
My peace, my glory, and my joy.
4 In blessing thee with grateful songs,
My happy life shall glide away:
The praise that to thy name belongs,
Hourly with lifted hands I'll pay.
5 In all I do, I feel thy aid,
Therefore thy greatness will I sing,
O God, who bid'st my heart be glad,
Beneath the shadow of thy wing.
6 My soul draws nigh and cleaves to thee: Then let or earth, or hell assail;
Thy mighty hand shall set me free;
For whom thou sav'st, he ne'er shall fail.
[S. B. 158.] 4 lines 8 & 2-6.
LET every tuneful accent rise,
To him that rules the earth and skies,
The infinite Unknown!
His goodness shines around the sphere,
And richly crowns the rolling year,
With blessings from his throne.
2 "Tis he ordains the blooming spring, Her softest, sweetest charms to bring, And wear her lovely dress:
"Tis he that clothes the fertile vale;
Bids fragrance breathe in every gale,
The rural scene to bless.
3 But he has richer gifts in store,
For which our grateful hearts adore
The Source of every good;
He gives us, rebels, lost in sin,
Pardon, and peace, and life divine,
Through a Redeemer's blood.
4 When destitute of help and hope,
His sov'reign mercy raised us up,
And snatch'd us from despair;
So free, so boundless is his love,
He calls us to the realms above,
And soon shall bring us there.
To GOD the only wise,
Our Saviour and our King,
Let all the saints below the skies,
Their humble praises bring.
"Tis his almighty love,
His council and his care,
Preserves us safe from sin and death,
And every hurtful snare.
|