1 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, 2 I'd tell him how my sins arise, How grace decays, and comfort dies, 3 He knows what arguments I'd take I'd plead for his own mercy's sake, 4 My God will pity my complaints, 5 Arise, my soul, from deep distress, He calls thee to his throne of grace, 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 In joys the world can never give, 30 Jesus, come and rule my heart, 4 Thus till my last expiring breath, And when my flesh disolves in death, 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, 3 Chain'd to his throne, a volume lies, 4 His providence unfolds the book, Each op'ning leaf, and ev'ry stroke, 5 Here, he exalts neglected worms 6 Not Gabriel asks the reason why, 7 In thy fair book of life and grace, HYMN 147. L. M. BEDDOME. AIT, O my soul, thy Maker's will! Nor let a murin'ring thought arise, And by his saints it stands confest, 1 4 Wait then, my soul, submissive wait, 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, 3 The fire of hell must kindle soon, 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, But meet a death from its own hand. 6 The fiery lake will hotter grow HYMN 149. L. M. J. STEWARD. 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. 1 H HYMN 150. 78. [EARTS of stone, relent, relent, See his body, mangled-rent, |