5 Thus art thou serv'd in ev'ry part;
Go on, bless'd Lord, to cleanse my heart,
That drossy thing refine;
That grace may nature's pow'rs control,
And a new creature, body, soul,
Be all and wholly thine.
Chilton. Kew. Aithlone, Ganges.
1 IF God had bid his thunders roll,
And lightnings flash to blast my soul,
I still had stubborn been:
But mercy has my heart subdu'd—
A bleeding Saviour I have view'd,
And now I hate my sin.
2 Now, Lord, I would be thine alone;
Come take possession of thine own,
For thou hast set me free;
Releas'd from Satan's hard command,
See all my pow'rs in waiting stand,
To be employ'd by thee.
3 My will conform'd to thine would move;
On thee my hope, desire, and love,
In fix'd attention join:
My hands, my eyes, my ears, my tongue,
Have Satan's servants been too long,
But now they shall be thine.
4 And can I be the very same,
Who lately durst blaspheme thy name,
And on thy gospel tread?
Surely each one, who hears my case,
Will praise thee, and confess thy grace
Invincible indeed!
Will ye also go away? John vi. 67–69.
1 WIIEN any turn from Zion's way,
(As numbers often do,)
Methinks I hear my Saviour say,
"Wilt thou forsake me too?"
2 Ah, Lord! with such a heart as mine,
Unless thou hold me fast,
My faith will fail, I shall decline,
And prove like them at last.
3 'Tis thou alone hast power and grace,
To save a wretch like me;
To whom then shall I turn my face,
If I depart from thee.
4 Beyond a doubt I rest assur'd,
Thou art the CHRIST of God;
Who hast eternal life secur'd,
By promise and by blood.
5 The help of men and angels join'd,
Could never reach my case!
Nor can I hope relief to find,
But in thy boundless grace.
6 No voice but thine can give me rest,
And bid my fears depart;
No love but thine can make me blest,
And satisfy my heart.
1 THOU only Sov'reign of my heart, My refuge, my almighty FriendAnd can my soul from thee depart, On whom alone my hopes depend? 2 Whither, ah! whither shall I go—
A wretched wand'rer from my Lord? Can this dark world of sin and wo, One glimpse of happiness afford? 3 Thy Name my inmost pow'rs adore; Thou art my life, my joy, my care; Depart from thee !-'tis death-'tis more, 'Tis endless ruin-deep despair!
4 Low at thy feet my soul would lie; Here safety dwells, and peace divine; Still let me live beneath thine eye, For life, eternal life is thine.
HYMN 408. C. M.
Standish. Bangor. Walsal.
1 TO whom, my Saviour, shall I go,
If I depart from thee?
My guide thro' all this vale of wo,
And more than all to me.
2 The world reject thy gentle reign,
And pay thy death with scorn;
Oh, they could plat thy crown again,
And sharpen ev'ry thorn.
3 But I have felt thy dying love
Breathe gently through my heart,
To whisper hope of joys above-
And can we ever part?
4 Ah, no, with thee I'll walk below,
My journey to the grave:
To whom, my Saviour, shall I go,
When only thou canst save?
Orange. Wirksworth.
1 BEWARE of Peter's word,
Nor confidently say,
"I never will deny the Lord,"
But "grant I never may."
2 Man's wisdom is to seek
His strength in God alone;
And e'en an angel would be weak,
Who trusted in his own.
3 Retreat beneath his wings,
And in his grace confide;
This more exalts the King of kings
Than all your works beside.
4 In Jesus is our store;
Grace issues from his throne;
"I want no more,"
Whoever says,
Confesses he has none.
Not ashamed of Jesus. Mark viii. 38.
1 JESUS! and shall it ever be,
A mortal man asham'd of thee!
Asham'd of thee, whom angels praise,
Whose glories shine through endless days.
2 Asham'd of Jesus!-sooner far
Let ev'ning blush to own a star:
He sheds the beams of light divine,
O'er this benighted soul of mine.
3 Asham'd of Jesus!-just as soon
Let midnight be asham'd of noon;
'Tis midnight with my soul, till He,
Bright morning Star, bid darkness flee.
4 Asham'd of Jesus !-that dear friend,
On whom my hopes of heav'n depend!
No! whom I blush, be this my shame,
That I no more revere his name.
5 Asham'd of Jesus!-yes I may-
When I've no guilt to wash away—
No tear to wipe-no good to crave-
No fear to quell-no soul to save.
6 Till then-nor is my boasting vain-
Till then I boast a Saviour slain!
And Oh, may this my glory be,
That Christ is not asham'd of me!
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