Rev. iii. 12.

My soul, triumphant in the Lord,
Shall tell its joys abroad,
And march with holy vigor on,
Supported by its God."

Through all the winding maze of life
His hand has been my guide;
And in his long-experienced care
My heart shall still confide.

His grace through all the desert flows,
An unexhausted stream;
That grace on Zion's sacred mount,
Shall be my endless theme.

Beyond the choicest joys of earth
Those distant courts I love;
But oh, I burn with strong desire
To view thy throne above.
Mingled with all the shining band,
My soul would there adore,
A pillar in thy temple fixed,
To be removed no more.

369

Philip Doddridge, 1740.

To meditate in the field at eventide.
Genesis xxiv. 63.

I love to steal awhile away
From every cumbering care,
And spend the hour of setting day
In humble, grateful prayer.

I love in solitude to shed

The penitential tear,
And all his promises to plead,
Where none but God can hear.

I love to think on mercies past,
And future good implore,
And all my cares and sorrows cast
On Him whom I adore.

I love by faith to take a view

C. M.

Of brighter scenes in heaven;
The prospect doth my strength renew,
While here by tempests driven.

Thus, when life's toilsome day is o'er,
May its departing ray
Be calm as this impressive hour;
And lead to endless day.

Phoebe Hinsdale Brown, ab. 1818.

The King of glory shall come in. Psalm xxiv, 7.

368-372

C. M.

Lift up your heads, eternal gates, Unfold, to entertain

The King of glory;

see, he comes

With his celestial train!

"Who is this King of glory? -- who?"
The Lord, for strength renowned;
In battle mighty — o'er his foes
Eternal Victor crowned.

Lift up your heads, eternal gates,
Unfold, to entertain

The King of glory;-see, he comes
With all his shining train.

"Who is this King of glory? -- who?"
The Lord of hosts renowned;
Of glory he alone is King,
Who is with glory crowned.

Nahum Tate and Nicholas Brady, ab. 1696.

C. M.

371 That the generation to come might know.
Psalm 1xxviii. 6.
Let children hear the mighty deeds
Which God performed of old;
Which in our younger years we saw,
And which our fathers told.
He bids us make his glories known,
His works of power and grace;
And we'll convey his wonders down
Through every rising race.

Our lips shall tell them to our sons;
And they again to theirs,
That generations yet unborn

May teach them to their heirs.

Thus shall they learn in God alone
Their hope securely stands,
That they may ne'er forget his works,
But practice his commands.

Isaac Watts, 1719.

373
How precious is the book divine,
By inspiration given!

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet.
Psalm cxix. 105.

Bright as a lamp its doctrines shine,
To guide our souls to heaven.

Its light descending from above,
Our gloomy world to cheer,
Displays a Saviour's boundless love,
And brings his glories near.

It shows to man his wandering ways,
And where his feet have trod;
And brings to view the matchless grace
Of a forgiving God.

O'er all the strait and narrow way

Its radiant beams are cast;
A light whose never weary ray
Grows brightest at the last.

It sweetly cheers our fainting hearts
In this dark vale of tears;

Life, light, and comfort it imparts,
And calms our anxious fears.

Oh, bid it all depart!

When to the right or left we stray,
Leave us not comfortless;
But guide our feet into the way
Of everlasting peace.

Help us to help each other, Lord,
Each other's cross to bear;
Let each his friendly aid afford,
And feel his brother's care.

Help us to build each other up,
Our little stock improve;
Increase our faith, confirm our hope,
And perfect us in love.

Up into thee, our living Head,

Let us in all things grow,

Till thou hast made us free indeed, And spotless here below.

Of life shall guide our way,

Till we behold the clearer light Of an eternal day.

Receive thy ready bride: Give us at last a happy lot With all the sanctified.

John Fawcett, 1782.

Wesley, 1749

Let Zion's watchmen all awake,
And take the alarm they give;
Now let them from the mouth of God
Their solemn charge receive.

'Tis not a cause of small import

The pastor's care demands;
But what might fill an angel's heart,
And filled a Saviour's hands.

They watch for souls, for whom the Lord
Did heavenly bliss forego;
For souls which must forever live,
Or perish in their woe.

All to the great tribunal haste,
Th' account to render there;
And shouldst thou strictly mark our faults,
Lord, how should we appear?

May they that Jesus whom they preach
Their own Redeemer see;
And watch thou daily o'er their souls,
That they may watch for thee.
Philip Doddridge, 1736.

Thou, Lord, hast blest my going out;
Oh bless my coming in!
Compass my weakness round about,
And keep me safe from sin.

Still hide me in thy secret place,
Thy tabernacle spread;
Shelter me with preserving grace,
And screen my naked head.

To thee for refuge may I run,

From sin's alluring snare; Ready its first approach to shun, And watching unto prayer.

O that I never, never more

Might from thy ways depart!
Here let me give my wanderings o'er,
By giving thee my heart.

Fix my new heart on things above,
And then from earth release;
I ask not life, but let me love,
And lay me down in peace.

Wesley, 1740.

What shall I render unto the Lord?
Psalm cxvi. 12.

What shall I render to my God
For all his kindness shown?
My feet shall visit thine abode,

375-378

C. M.

My songs address thy throne.
Among the saints that fill thy house,
My offerings shall be paid;
There shall my zeal perform the vows
My soul in anguish made.

How much is mercy thy delight,
Thou ever-blessed God!
How dear thy servants in thy sight,
How precious is their blood!

How happy all thy servants are!
How great thy grace to me!
My life, which thou hast made thy care,
Lord, I devote to thee.

Now I am thine, forever thine,

Nor shall my purpose move;
Thy hand hath loosed my bonds of pain,
And bound me with thy love.

Here in thy courts I leave my vow,
And thy rich grace record;
Witness, ye saints who hear me now,
If I forsake the Lord.

That solemn hour will come for me,
When, though their charms I own,
All human ties resigned must be;

For I must die alone.

All earthly pleasures will be o'er,
All earthly labors done,
And I shall tread the eternal shore,
And I must die alone.

But O, I will not view with dread
That shadowy vale unknown;

I see a light within it shed;
I shall not die alone!

One will be with me there, whose voice
I long have loved and known;
In Him my spirit shall rejoice,

I shall not die alone.

Unknown.

Edward Denny, ab. 1839.

Whereby we cry, Abba, Father.

Rom. viii. 15.

C. M.

383
My Father, God! how sweet the sound!
How tender, and how dear!
Not all the melody of heaven
Could so delight the ear.

Come, sacred Spirit, seal the name
On my expanding heart,
And show, that in Jehovah's grace
I share a filial part.

Cheered by a signal so divine,
Unwavering I believe;
My spirit, "Abba, Father," cries,
Nor can the sign deceive.

On wings of everlasting love
The Comforter is come;
All terrors at his voice disperse,
And endless pleasures bloom.

Philip Doddridge, ab. 1755.

Canticles i. 3.

C. M.

How sweet the name of Jesus sounds

In a believer's ear!

It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.

It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast;
'Tis manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary rest.

Dear Name! the rock on which I build,
My shield and hiding-place;
My never-failing treasury, filled
With boundless stores of grace.

By Thee my prayers acceptance gain,
Although with sin defiled;
Satan accuses me in vain,

And I am owned a child.

Jesus! my Shepherd, Husband, Friend,
My Prophet, Priest, and King;
My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End,
Accept the praise I bring.

Weak is the effort of my heart,

And cold my warmest thought;
But when I see Thee as thou art,
I'll praise thee as I ought.

Till then I would thy love proclaim
With every fleeting breath;
And may the music of thy name
Refresh my soul in death!

Psalm cxxxix. 17.

John Newton, 1779.

C. M.

385 How precious also are Thy thoughts.
Lord, when I count thy mercies o'er,
They strike me with surprise;
Not all the sands that spread the shore
To equal numbers rise.

My flesh with fear and wonder stands,
The product of thy skill;

And hourly blessings from thy hands
Thy thoughts of love reveal.

These on my heart by night I keep:
How kind, how dear to me!
Oh may the hour that ends my sleep
Still find my thoughts with thee!

Isaac Watts, 1718.