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HYMN 144. C. M.

Job xxiii. 3.

WATTS.

Oh, that I knew the secret place,

Where I might find my God?

I'd spread my wants before his face,
And pour my woes abroad.

2 I'd tell him how my sins arise,
What sorrows I sustain ;

How grace decays, and comfort dies,
And leaves my heart in pain.

3 He knows what arguments I'd take
To wrestle with my God;

I'd plead for his own mercy's sake,
And for my Saviour's blood.

4 My God will pity my complaints,
And heal my broken bones;
He takes the meaning of his saints,
The language of their groans.

5 Arise, my soul, from deep distress,
And banish every fear;

He calls thee to his throne of grace,
To spread thy sorrows there.

HYMN 145. c. M.

OH, could I find from day to day,

A nearness to my God:

Then should my hours glide sweet away And lean upon his word.

2 Lord, I desire with thee to live
Anew from day to day;

In joys the world can never give,
Nor ever take away.

30 Jesus, come and rule my heart,
And make me wholly thine,
That I may never more depart,
Nor grieve thy love divine.

4 Thus till my last expiring breath,
Thy goodness I'll adore;

And when my flesh disolves in death,
My soul shall love thee more.

HYMN 146. C. M.

Decrees of God.

WATTS.

KEEP silence all created things,

And wait your Maker's nod:

My soul stands trembling, while she sings The honors of her God.

2 Life, death, and hell, and worlds unknown Hang on his firm decree;

He sits on no precarious throne,
Nor borrows leave-to be.

3 Chain'd to his throne, a volume lies,
With all the fates of men;
With ev'ry angel's form and size,
Drawn by th' eternal pen.

4 His providence unfolds the book,
And makes his counsels shine;

Each op'ning leaf, and ev'ry stroke,
Fulfils some deep design.

5 Here, he exalts neglected worms
To sceptres and a crown;
And there, the following page he turns,
And treads the monarch down.

6 Not Gabriel asks the reason why,
Nor God the reason gives;
Nor dares the fav'rite angel pry
Between the folded leaves.

7 In thy fair book of life and grace,
Oh, may I find my name,
Recorded in some humble place,
Beneath my Lord-the Lamb.

HYMN 147. L. M.

BEDDOME.

AIT, O my soul, thy Maker's will!

Nor let a murin'ring thought arise,
His ways are just, his counsels wise.
2 He in the thickest darkness dwells,
Performs his work, the cause conceals;
But tho' his methods are unknown,
Judgment and truth support his throne.
3 In heav'n, and earth, and air, and seas,
He executes his firm decrees;

And by his saints it stands confest,
That what he does is ever. best.

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4 Wait then, my soul, submissive wait,
Prostrate before his awful seat:
And 'midst the terrors of his rod,
Trust in a wise and gracious God.

HYMN 148. L. M. J. STEWARD.

Depravity,

GOD, from his throne, with piercing

eye,

Naked does every heart behold; But never, till we come to die,

Will he to us the view unfold.

2 Should sin, in naked form appear,
Just as it rises in the heart,
And others know and see it there
In ev'ry feeling, every thought;

3 The fire of hell must kindle soon,
How envy and revenge would flame!
One heart would urge another on,
Till rage and vengeance want a name!

4 Sin in its nature would appear

A living death, to form a hell; The worst of mis'ries creatures fear, The worst of plagues the tongue can tell.

5 Unveil'd and naked ev'ry heart

Before the judgment seat must stand,
Sin act no more a double part,

But meet a death from its own hand.

6 The fiery lake will hotter grow
From the fierce clash of sinful souls;
Each bosom like a furnace glow,
Nor God the rage, or fire control.

HYMN 149. L. M. J. STEWARD.
Sin and misery connected.

1A With storm, the sound of gospel grace;

H, wretched souls are they, who hear

For sorrow walks along with sin, Although they keep not equal pace. 2 How blindly sinners grasp their chains, And yet of freedom vainly boast; They look for happiness and peace, Nor think by sin their peace is lost. 3 Approaching vice is deck'd in charms, And smiles with promises of gain; No sooner past-its joys are fled, And all its pleasures chang'd to pain. 4 Sinners may for a time rejoice

Till storms of threaten'd wrath ariseTill justice grasp th' avenging sword; And then the wretch, the sinner dies.

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HYMN 150. 78.

[EARTS of stone, relent, relent,
Break, by Jesus' cross subdu'd;

See his body, mangled-rent,
Cover'd with a gore of blood;