But should not cost the saint a tear, Who hopes a better rest to find. 2 “We've no abiding city here ;” Sad truth, were this to be our home: But let this thought our spirits cheer, "We seek a city yet to come." 3 "We've no abiding city here,” Then let us live as pilgrims do; 4 "We've no abiding city here ;"- 5 Zion!-Jehovah is her strength! Secure she smiles at all her foes; And weary travellers at length, Within her sacred walls repose. 6 O sweet abode of peace and love! Where pilgrims, freed from toil are blest; Had I the pinions of a dove, I'd fly to thee and be at rest. But hush, my soul, nor dare repine: CCCLXVI. C. M. NEW Sel. AREWELL, vain world, to earth adient, or friendship I no more pursue, Your flatt'ries are but lies. 2 You promise happiness in vain, Your highest pleasures turn to pain, 3 Had I the Indies, East and West, Without my God I could not rest, 4 Then let my soul rise far above, 5 There love and joy that will not waste, There pleasures that will always last, CCCLXVII. L. M. SONGS IN THE NIGHT, Longing for Glory. 1 HASTE that delightful, awful day, When this my soul shall leave her clay, Mount and make her last remove, up And join the church of Christ above. 2 Vain world! what are your toys to me? 'Tis Jesus that I want to see: 3 I'd leave my friends, my life, my all, "Farewell—no more I tread your ground, "No more I need the gospel-sound; "My feet have reach'd the heavenly shore, "I know no imperfection more. 4 "Let friends no more my sufferings mourn, "Nor view my relics with concern : "O cease to drop the pitying tear, "I've got beyond the reach of fear.". 3 Through tribulation sharp and long I'm brought to join the sinless throng; Glory to God for every wo, For every pain I felt below. 6 All glory to the Lamb of God: My robes are spotless through his blood; 'Tis through his free and sov'reign grace I now behold his blissful face. 7 Worthy the Lamb that once was slain To him unceasing praise be given, CCCLXVIII. C. M. MY WATTS. Parting with carnal joys. 2 No longer will I ask your love, 3 There's nothing round the spacious earth 4 Had I the pinions of a dove, I CCCLXIX. L. M. WATTS. The same. SEND the joys of earth away; 4 Now to the shining realms above To bear me to the upper skies! 5 There from the bosom of my God CCCLXX. C. M. WATTS. Love to the creatures is dangerous. 1 HOW vain are all things here below! Each pleasure hath its poison too; 2 The brightest things below the sky We should suspect some danger nigh 3 Our dearest joys and nearest friends, How they divide our wav'ring minds, 4 The fondness of a creature's love, 5 Dear Saviour! let thy beauties be And grace command my heart away GIVING TO THE POOR. CCCLXXI. C. M. DODDRIDGE. Relieving Christ in his Members. Matt. xxv. 40. 1 JESUS, my Lord, how rich thy grace! How shall I count the matchless sum ? 2 High on a throne of radiant light 3 But thou hast brethren here below, 4 In them thou may'st be cloth'd and fed, And in their accents of distress, My Saviour's voice is heard.' |