2 The howling blasts, impetuous, sweep
The desolated plain;
The frighted beasts to covert creep;
Home flies the trembling swain!
3 But louder thunders o'er my head,
My heart with terror fill;
And storms of wrath divine I dread,
Which soul and body kill!
4 See, on the whirlwind's rapid wing,
The King of terrors ride,
And with him desolation bring!
Myself where can I hide ?
5 "Haste, sinner! haste," the Saviour cry'd,
"Behold my wounded form!
The cleft of my deep-pierced side
Shall hide thee from the storm."
YOME, ye weary sinners, come,
All, who feel your heavy load;
Jesus calls the wand'rers home;
Hasten to your pard'ning God,
Come, ye guilty souls opprest,
Answer to the Saviour's call:
Come, and I will give you rest;
Come, and I will save you
all."
2 Jesus,-full of truth and love, We thy kindest call obey,
Faithful let thy mercies prove,
Take our load of guilt away,
Weary of this war within,
Weary of this endless strife,
Weary of ourselves and sin,
Weary of a wretched life.
3 Burden'd with a world of grief,
Burden'd with our sinful load,
Burden'd with this unbelief,
Burden'd with the wrath of God,
Lo, we come to thee for ease,
True and gracious as thou art;
Now our weary souls release,
Write forgiveness on our heart.
OME, my soul, thy suit prepare,
Jesus loves to answer pray'r;
He himself has bid thee pray,
Rise and ask without delay.
2 With my burden I begin;
Lord! remove this load of sin!
Let thy blood for sinners spilt,
Set my conscience free from guilt.
3 Lord! I come to thee for rest,
Take possession of my breast;
There thy sov'reign right maintain,
And without a rival reign.
4 Shew me what I have to do,
Ev'ry hour my strength renew;
Let me live a life of faith,
Let me die thy people's death.
Prayer for spiritual healing.
1HOU great Physician of the soul, To thee I bring my case;
My raging malady control,
And heal me by thy grace.
2 Help me to state my whole complaint; But where shall I begin?
Nor words, nor thoughts can fully paint
That worst distemper—sin.
3 It lies not in a single part,
But thro' my soul is spread;
And all th' affections of my heart
By sin are captive led.
4 A thousand evil thoughts intrude,
Tumultuous in my breast;
Which indispose me for my food,
And rob me of my rest.
5 Thou great Physician, hear my cry,
And set my spirit free;
Let not a trembling sinner die,
Who longs to live to thee.
[EAL us, Immanuel, here we stand,
H Waiting to feel thy touch;
To wounded souls stretch forth thy hand, Blest Saviour, we are such.
2 Remember him who once apply'd, With trembling for relief;
"Lord, I believe," with tears, he cry'd, "Oh, help my unbelief."
3 She too, who touch'd thee in the press, And healing virtue stole,
Was answer'd, "Daughter, go in peace,
Thy faith hath made thee whole."
4 Like her, with hopes and fears we come,
To touch thee if we may;
Oh, send us not despairing home,
Send none unheal'd away.
Sinners pleading for mercy. LORD, at thy feet we sinners lie,
And knock at mercy's door;
With heavy heart and downcast eye,
Thy favor we implore.
2 Without thy grace, we sink opprest
Down to the gates of hell;
Oh, give our troubled spirit rest,
Our gloomy fears dispel.
3 "Tis mercy, mercy we implore;
Oh, may thy bowels move:
Thy grace is an exhaustless store,
And thou thyself art love.
4 In mercy now, for Jesus' sake,
Our many sins forgive;
Thy grace our rocky hearts can break,
And breaking soon relieve.
5 Thus melt us down, thus make us bend,
And thy dominion own;
Nor let a rival more pretend
To repossess thy throne.
HYMN 355. 8, 7.
1 TESUS, full of all compassion,
Hear thy humble suppliant's cry;
Let me know thy great salvation,
See, I languish, faint, and die.
2 Guilty, but with heart relenting,
Overwhelm'd with helpless grief-
Prostrate at thy feet repenting
Send, O send me quick relief!
3 Whither should a wretch be flying,
But to him who comfort gives?
Whither, from the dread of dying,
But to him who ever lives?
4 Sav'd-the deed shall spread new glory Thro' the shining realms above;
Angels sing the pleasing story,
All enraptur'd with thy love.
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