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IIYMN 266.

Fawcett.

L. M.

Armley. Warwick.

The Christian Pilgrim. Deat. viii. 2.
1 THROUGH this wide wilderness I roam,
Far distant from my blissful home;
My earthly joys are from me torn,
And oft an absent God I mourn.
2 My soul with various tempests toss'd,
Her fairest hopes and projects cross'd,
Sees ev'ry day new straits attend,
And wonders where the scene will end.
3 Is this, dear Lord, that thorny road,
Which leads us to the mount of God?-
Are these the toils thy people know,
While in the wilderness below?

4 'Tis even so-thy faithful love
Doth all thy children's graces prove;
'Tis thus our pride and self must fall,
That Jesus may be all in all.
HYMN 267. C. M.

Walsal. Standish.

Heb. xii. 22-24.

1 CHILDREN of God, who, trav'ling slow, Your pilgrim path pursue,

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In strength, and weakness, joy and wo, To God's high calling true;

2 Why move ye thus with ling'ring tread,
A doubtful, mournful band?

Why faintly hangs the drooping head?
Why fails the feeble hand?

3 Was the full orb that rose in light
To cheer your early way,

A treach'rous meteor, falsely bright,
That blaz'd, and pass'd away?

4 Was the rich vale that proudly shone
Beneath the morning beam,
A soft illusion, swiftly gone-
A fair and faithless dream?

5 Oh! weak to know a Saviour's pow'r,
To feel a father's care:

A moment's toil, a passing show'r,
Is all the grief ye share.

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Part II.

1 THE Lord of light, though veil'd awhile
He hide his noon tide ray,
Shall soon in lovelier beauty smile
To gild the closing day:

2 And, bursting through the dusky shroud That dar'd his pow'r invest,

Ride thron'd in light o'er every cloud,
Triumphant to his rest:

3 And there, beneath his beam renew'd,
That glorious vale shall shine,

So long by trembling hope pursu'd,
And now for ever thine.

4 Then, Christian, dry the falling tear;
The faithless doubt remove;

Redeem'd at last from guilt and fear,
Oh! wake thy heart to love.

Newton.

HYMN 269. L. M.

Bath. Kent.

1 AS when the weary trav'ler gains
The height of some o'erlooking hill,
His heart revives, if, cross the plains,

He eyes his home though distant still;
2 So when the Christian pilgrim views,
By faith his mansion in the skies;
The sight his fainting strength renews,
And wings his speed to reach the prize
3 'Tis there, he says, I am to dwell,
With Jesus in the realms of day.
Then I shall bid my cares farewell,
And he will wipe my tears away.

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_1 PILGRIM, burden'd with thy sin, Haste to Zion's gate to-day; There, till mercy let thee in,

Knock, and weep, and watch, and pray. 2 Knock-for mercy lends an ear; Weep-she marks the sinner's sigh; Watch till heavenly light appear; Pray-she hears the mourner's cry. 3 Mourning Pilgrim! what for thee In this world can now remain? Seek that world from which shall flee Sorrow, shame, and tears and pain.

4 Sorrow shall for ever fly;

Shame shall never enter there;
Tears be wip'd from every eye;
Pain in endless bliss expire.

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In thy light shall we see light. Ps. xxxvi. 9.
1 FOUNTAIN of light, whose copious stream
Supplies the sun with every beam;
Night fades before thy kindling ray,
Till all within is perfect day.

2 A beam of life and light impart,
To quicken and to warm my heart,
And bid the lucid current roll,

Through all the channels of the soul;-
3 Till to its source above the skies,
The tributary stream shall rise;
And, ceasing in this world to be,
Rejoice to lose itself in thee.

HYMN 272.

7,6.

Fairfax. Margate.

Newton.

1 SOMETIMES a light surprises
The Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord who rises,

With healing on his wings;
When comforts are declining,
He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining,
To cheer it after rain.

2 In holy contemplation,
We sweetly then pursue
The theme of God's salvation,
And find it ever new:

Set free from present sorrow,
We cheerfully can say,
Let the unknown to-morrow
Bring with it what it may.
3 It can bring with it nothing,
But he will bear us through.-
Who gives the lilies clothing,
Will clothe his people too:
Beneath the spreading heavens,
No creature but is fed;
And he who feeds the ravens,
Will give his children broad.

4 Though vine nor fig-tree neither,
Their wonted fruit should bear,
Though all the fields should wither,
Nor flocks nor herds be there;
Yet God the same abiding,
His praise shall tune my voice;
For while in him confiding,
I cannot but rejoice.

HYMN 273. C. M.

Stade. Abridge.

Watts.

10 HAPPY soul, that lives on high,
While men lie grov'ling here!

His hopes are fix'd above the sky,
And faith forbids his fear.

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