Yet, lest it wound their souls too deep, Its fury shall be broke.
p 4 Deal gently, Lord, with those, Whose faith and pious fear- Whose hope, and love, and ev'ry grace, Proclaim their hearts sincere.
5 Nor shall the tyrant's rage Too long oppress the saint; o The God of Israel will support His children, lest they faint.
e 6 But if our slavish fear
Will choose the road to hell, a We must expect our portion there, Where bolder sinners dwell.
PSALM 126. L. M. Green's. [*] Surprising Deliverance.
1 [WHEN God restor' our captive state
Joy was our song, and grace our theme;
The grace, beyond our hope so great, That joy appear'd a painted dream. 2 The scoffer owns thy hand, and pays Unwilling honours to thy name;
While we, with pleasure, shout thy praise, With cheerful notes, thy love proclaim. 3 When we review our dismal fears, "Twas hard to think they'd vanish so; With God we left our flowing tears, He makes our joys like rivers flow. 4 The man that in his furrow'd field, His scatter'd seed with sadness leaves, Will shout to see the harvest yield A welcome load of joyful sheaves.]
C. M. Sunday. Swanwich.
A remarkable Display of Divine Grace. THEN God reveal'd his gracious name, And chang'd my mournful state,
u My rapture seem'd a pleasing dream, The grace appear'd so great.
-2 The world beheld the glorious change, And did thy hand confess;
o My tongue broke out in unknown strains, And sung surprising grace.
d 3 "Great is the work!" my neighbours cry'd,
And own'd thy pow'r divine;
"Great is the work!" my heart reply'd,
"And be the glory thine."
o 4 The Lord can clear the darkest skies, d Can give us day for night;
Make drops of sacred sorrow rise To rivers of delight.
-5 Let those, who sow in sadness, wait 'Till the fair harvest come;
They shall confess their sheaves are great, And shout the blessings home.
--6 Though seed lie buried long in dust, It shan't deceive their hope;
o The precious grain can neʼer be lost, For grace ensures the crop.
PSALM 127.. L. M. Portugal. [*] Success and Happiness from God.
[F God succeed not, all the cost,
And pains, to build the house, are lost; If God the city will not keep,
The watchful guards as well may sleep. 2 What if you rise before the sun, And work and toil when day is done; Careful and sparing eat your bread, To shun that poverty you dread;- 3 'Tis all in vain, 'till God hath blest: He can make rich, yet give us rest; Children and friends are blessings too, If God our sovereign make them so. • 4 Happy the man, to whom he sends Obedient children, faithful friends; How sweet our daily comforts prove, When they are season'd with his love!
1 [TF God to build the house deny, The builders work in vain;
And towns without his wakeful eye, An useless watch maintain.
2 Before the morning beams arise, Your painful work renew;
And, till the stars ascend the skies,
Your tiresome toil pursue.
3 Short be your sleep, and coarse your fare, In vain, till God has blest;
But if his smiles attend your care, You shall have food and rest.
4 Nor children, relatives, nor friends, Shall real blessings prove, Nor all the earthly joys he sends, If sent without his love.]
PSALM 128. C. M. Devizes. [*] Family Blessings.
HAPPY man, whose soul is fill'd With zeal and rev'rend awe! His lips to God their honours yield, His life adorns the law.
2 A careful providence shall stand, And ever guard thy head; Shall on the labours of thy hand Its kindly blessings shed.
3 Thy wife shall be a fruitful vine; Thy children round thy board, Each like a plant of honour shine, And learn to fear the Lord.
4 The Lord shall thy best hopes fulfil, For months and years to come; The Lord, who dwells on Zion's hill, Shall send the blessings home. 5 This is the man, whose happy eyes Shall see his house increase; Shall see the sinking church arise, Then leave the world in peace.
PSALM 129. C. M. Mear. [*] Persecutors punished.
1 UP from my youth, may Israel say,
Have I been nurs'd in tears;
My griefs were constant as the day, And tedious as the years.
2 Up from my youth, I bore the rage Of all the sons of strife;
Oft they assail'd my riper age, But not destroy'd my life.
3 Their cruel plough hath torn my flesh, With furrows long and deep; Hourly they vex'd my wounds afresh; Nor let my sorrows sleep.
4 The Lord grew angry on his throne, And with impartial eye,
Measur'd the mischiefs they had done, And let his arrows fly.
5 How was their insolence surpris'd To hear his thunders roll! And all the foes of Zion seiz'd,
With horrour to the soul.
6 Thus shall the men, who hate the saints, Be blasted from the sky; Their glory fades, their courage faints, And all their projects die.
7 [What though they flourish tall and fair, They have no root beneath;
Their growth shall perish in despair, And lie despis'd in death.
8 So corn that on the house-top stands, No hope of harvest gives; The reaper ne'er shall fill his hands, Nor binder fold the sheaves.
9 It springs and withers on the place: No traveller bestows
A word of blessings on the grass, Nor minds it as he goes.]
PSALM 130. C. M. Abridge. Sunday. [*]
UT of the deeps of long distress, The borders of despair,
I sent my cries to seek thy grace,
My groans to move thine ear.
a 2 Great God, should thy severer eye, And thine impartial haud,
Mark and revenge, iniquity,
No mortal flesh could stand.
-3 But there are pardons with my God, For crimes of high degree;
Thy Son has bought them with his blood, To draw us near to thee.
4 [I wait for thy salvation, Lord, With strong desires I wait; My soul, invited by thy word, Stands watching at thy gate.]
e 5 (Just as the guards that keep the night Long for the morning skies, Watch the first beams of breaking light, And meet them with their eyes;-
6 So waits my soul to see thy grace, And more intent than they, Meet the first op'nings of thy face, And finds a brighter day.)
• 7 Then in the Lord let Israel trust, Let Israel seek his face;
The Lord is good as well as just, And plenteous is his grace.
8 There's full redemption at his throne, For sinners long enslav'd;
The great Redeemer is his son; And Israel shall be sav'd.
L. M. Bath, Armley.
Pardoning Grace.
FROM deep distress, and troubled thoughts, To thee, my God, I raise my cries:
If thou severely mark our faults,
No flesh can stand before thine eyes.
-2 But thou hast built thy throne of grace, Free to dispense thy pardons there; That sinners may approach thy face, And hope and love, as well as fear. e 3 As the benighted pilgrims wait, And long and wish for breaking day, So waits my soul before thy gate; When will my God his face display? • 4 My trust is fix'd upon thy word, Nor shall I trust thy word in vain; Let mourning souls address the Lord, And find relief from all their pain. g 5 Great is his love, and large his grace, Through the redemption of his Son; He turns our feet from sinful ways, And pardons what our hands have done.
« AnteriorContinuar » |