HYMN 198. L. M. Harrison. Warwick Surry. 1 OH, could I find some peaceful bow'r, 4 Lord, free me from this deadly foe, HYMN 199. L. M. Islington. Truro. The Christian's Hope. Watts. 1 WHAT sinners value I resign; 2 This life's a dream, an empty show; Hath joys substantial and sincere; When shall I wake and find me there?. 3 O glorious hour! O blest abode ! I shall be near and like my God! And flesh and sin no more control The sacred pleasures of the soul. HYMN 200. 8,7, 4. Jordan. Littleton. Fawcett. Hope encouraged. Ps. xlii. 5. 1 O MY soul, what means this sadness? And rejoice in his dear name. 2 What though Satan's strong temptations Often fill thee with dismay; Through the Lamb's redeeming blood 3 Though ten thousand ills beset thee, From without and from within; Jesus saith he'll ne'er forget thee, To perform his gracious word. 4 Though distresses now attend thee, And thou treadst the thorny road; His right hand shall still defend thee; Praise the great Redeemer's name. When shall I your chorus join? Armley. Darwent. 1 Sam. xxx. 6. Steele. 1 WHY sinks my weak desponding mind? Why heaves my heart the anxious sigh? Can sov'reign goodness be unkind? Am I not safe, if God is nigh? 2 He holds all nature in his hand: 3 'Tis he supports this fainting frame, The wond'rous glories of his name, How wide they spread! how bright they shine! 4 My God, if thou art mine indeed, Then I have all my heart can crave; A present help in times of need, Still kind to hear, and strong to save HYMN 202. C. M. Standish. Elgin. J. Steward. Hoping, yet trembling. 1 MY soul would fain indulge a hope 2 I hope to hear, and join the song, 3 But Oh-this dreadful heart of sin! 4 The scene must then for ever close, No gospel grace can reach me there, 5 Come then, O blessed Jesus, come, Shine through a dark, benighted soul, Lives but the insect of a day Oh, why should mortal man be proud? 2 His brightest visions just appear, Then vanish, and no more are found; The stateliest pile his pride can rear, A breath may level with the ground. 3 Follies and crimes, a countless sum, Are crowded in life's little span: How ill, alas, does pride become That erring, guilty creature, man! 4 God of my life, Father divine! Give me a meek and lowly mind: C. M. Mear. St. Martin's. Joy in the Holy Ghost. Luke i. 46. In God, my Saviour, and my God; 2 I need not go abroad for joy, Who have a feast at home; My sighs are turned into songs,— 3 Down from on high, the blessed Dovo Is come into my breast; To witness God's eternal love; |