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XLIV. Submission

O Lord, my best desire fulfil,

And help me to resign

Life, health, and comfort to Thy will,

And make Thy pleasure mine.

Why whould I shrink at Thy command,

Whose love forbids my fears?

Or tremble at the gracious hand

That wipes away my tears?

No, rather let me freely yield

What most I prize to Thee;

Who never hast a good withheld,

Or wilt withhold, from me.

Thy favor, all my journey through,

Thou art engaged to grant;

What else I want, or think I do,

'Tis better still to want.

Wisdom and mercy guide my way,

Shall I resist them both?

A poor blind creature of day,

And crush'd before the moth!

But ah! my inward spirit cries,

Still binds me to Thy sway;

Else the next cloud that veils the skies

Drives all these thoughts away.

XLV. The Hapy Change

How bless'd Thy creature is, O God,

When with a single eye,

He views the lustre of Thy Word,

The dayspring from on high!

Through all the storms that veil the skies

And frown on earthly things,

The Sun of Righteousness he eyes,

With healing on His wings.

Struck by that light, the human heart,

A barren soil no more,

Sends the sweet smell of grace abroad,

Where serpents lurk'd before.

The soul, a dreary province once

Of Satan's dark domain,

Feels a new empire form'd within,

And owns a heavenly reign.

The glorious orb whose golden beams

The fruitful year control,

Since first obedient to Thy WOrd,

He started from the goal,

Has cheer'd the nations with the joys

His orient rays impart;

But, Jesus, 'tis Thy light alone

Can shine upon the heart.

XLVI. Retirement

Far from the world, O Lord, I flee,

From strife and tumult far;

From scenes where Satan wages still

His most successful war.

The calm retreat, the silent shade,

With prayer and praise agree;

And seem, by Thy sweet bounty made,

For those who follow Thee.

There if Thy Spirit touch the soul,

And grace her mean abode,

Oh, with what peace, and joy, and love,

She communes with her God!

There like the nightingale she pours

Her solitary lays;

Nor asks a witness of her song,

Nor thirsts for human praise.

Author and Guardian of my life,

Sweet source of light Divine,

And, -- all harmonious names in one, --

My Saviour! Thou art mine.

What thanks I owe Thee, and what love,

A boundless, endless store,

Shall echo through the realms above,

When time shall be no more.

XLVII. The Hidden Life

To tell the Saviour all my wants,

How pleasing is the task!

Nor less to praise Him when He grants

Beyond what I can ask.

My laboring spirit vainly seeks

To tell but half the joy,

With how much tenderness He speaks,

And helps me to reply.

Nor were it wise, nor should I choose,

Such secrets to declare;

Like precious wines their taste they lose,

Exposed to open air.

But this with boldness I proclaim,

Nor care if thousands hear,

Sweet is the ointment of His name,

Not life is half so dear.

And can you frown, my former friends,

Who knew what once I was,

And blame the song that thus commends

The Man who bore the cross?

Trust me, I draw the likeness true,

And not as fancy paints;

Such honor may He give to you,

For such have all His saints.

XLVIII. Joy and Peace in Believing

Sometimes a light surprises

The Christian while he sings;

It is the Lord who rises

With healing on His wings;

When comforts are declining,

He grants the soul again

A season of clear shining,

To cheer it after rain.

In holy contemplation

We sweetly then pursue

The theme of God's salvation,

And find it ever new;

Set free from present sorrow,

We cheerfully can say,

E'en let the unknown to-morrow

Bring with it what it may!

It can bring with it nothing,

But He will bear us through;

Who gives the lilies clothing,

Will clothe His people too;

Beneath the spreading heavens

No creature but is fed;

And He who feeds the ravens

Will give His children bread.

Though vine nor fig tree neither

Their wonted fruit shall bear,

Though all the field should wither,

Nor flocks nor herds be there:

Yet God the same abiding,

His praise shall tune my voice;

For, while in Him confiding,

I cannot but rejoice.

XLIX. True Pleasures

Lord, my soul with pleasure springs

When Jesu's name I hear:

And when God the Spirit brings

The word of promise near:

Beauties too, in holiness,

Still delighted I perceive;

Nor have words that can express

The joys Thy precepts give.

Clothed in sanctity and grace,

How sweet it is to see

Those who love Thee as they pass,

Or when they wait on Thee.

Pleasant too to sit and tell

What we owe to love Divine;

Till our bosoms grateful swell,

And eyes begin to shine.

Those the comforts I possess,

Which God shall still increase,

All His ways are pleasantness,

And all His paths are peace.

Nothing Jesus did or spoke,

Henceforth let me ever slight;

For I love His easy yoke,

And find His burden light.

L. The Christian

Honor and happiness unite

To make the Christian's name a praise;

How fair the scene, how clear the light,

That fills the remnant of His days!

A kingly character He bears,

No change His priestly office knows;

Unfading is the crown He wears,

His joys can never reach a close.

Adorn'd with glory from on high,

Salvation shines upon His face;

His robe is of the ethereal dye,

His steps are dignity and grace.

Inferior honors He disdains,

Nor stoops to take applause from earth;

The King of kings Himself maintains

The expenses of His heavenly birth.

The noblest creature seen below,

Ordain'd to fill a throne above;

God gives him all He can bestow,

His kingdom of eternal love!

My soul is ravished at the thought!

Methinks from earth I see Him rise!

Angels congratulate His lot,

And shout Him welcome to the skies.

LI. Lively Hope and Gracious Fear

I was a grovelling creature once,

And basely cleaved to earth:

I wanted spirit to renounce

The clod that gave me birth.

But God hath breathed upon a worm,

And sent me from above

Wings such as clothe an angel's form,

The wings of joy and love.

With these to Pisgah's top I fly

And there delighted stand,

To view, beneath a shining sky,

The spacious promised land.

The Lord of all the vast domain

Has promised it to me,

The length and breadth of all the plain

As far as faith can see.

How glorious is my privilege!

To Thee for help I call;

I stand upon a mountain's edge,

O save me, lest I fall!

Though much exalted in the Lord,

My strength is not my own;

Then let me tremble at His word,

And none shall cast me down.

LII. For the Poor

When Hagar found the bottle spent

And wept o'er Ishmael,

A message from the Lord was sent

To guide her to a well.

Should not Elijah's cake and cruse

Convince us at this day,

A gracious God will not refuse

Provisions by the way?

His saints and servants shall be fed,

The promise is secure;

"Bread shall be given them," as He said,

"Their water shall be sure."

Repasts far richer they shall prove,

Than all earth's dainties are;

'Tis sweet to taste a Saviour's love,

Though in the meanest fare.

To Jesus then your trouble bring,

Nor murmur at your lot;

While you are poor and He is King,

You shall not be forgot.

LIII. My Soul THirsteth for God

I thirst, but not as once I did,

The vain delights of earth to share;

Thy wounds, Emmanuel, all forbid

That I should seek my pleasures there.

It was the sight of Thy dear cross

First wean'd my soul from earthly things;

And taught me to esteem as dross

The mirth of fools and pomp of kings.

I want that grace that springs from Thee,

That quickens all things where it flows,

And makes a wretched thorn like me

Bloom as the myrtle, or the rose.

Dear fountain of delight unknown!

No longer sink below the brim;

But overflow, and pour me down

A living and life-giving stream!

For sure of all the plants that share

The notice of thy Father's eye,

None proves less grateful to His care,

Or yields him meaner fruit than I.

LIV. Love Constrained to Obedience

No strength of nature can suffice

To serve the Lord aright:

And what she has she misapplies,

For want of clearer light.

How long beneath the law I lay

In bondage and distress;

I toll'd the precept to obey,

But toil'd without success.

Then, to abstain from outward sin

Was more than I could do;

Now, if I feel its power within,

I feel I hate it too.

Then all my servile works were done

A righteousness to raise;

Now, freely chosen in the Son,

I freely choose His ways.

"What shall I do," was then the word,

"That I may worthier grow?"

"What shall I render to the Lord?"

Is my inquiry now.

To see the law by Christ fulfilled

And hear His pardoning voice,

Changes a slave into a child,

And duty into choice.

LV. The Heart Healed and Changed by Mercy

Sin enslaved me many years,

And led me bound and blind;

Till at length a thousand fears

Came swarming o'er my mind.

"Where," said I, in deep distress,

"Will these sinful pleasures end?

How shall I secure my peace

And make the Lord my friend?"

Friends and ministers said much

The gospel to enforce;

But my blindness still was such,

I chose a legal course:

Much I fasted, watch'd, and strove,

Scarce would shew my face abroad,

Fear'd almost to speak or move,

A stranger still to God.

Thus afraid to trust His grace,

Long time did I rebel;

Till despairing of my case,

Down at His feet I fell:

Then my stubborn heart He broke,

And subdued me to His sway;

By a simple word He spoke,

"Thy sins are done away."

LVI. Hatred of Sin

Holy Lord God! I love Thy truth,

Nor dare Thy least commandment slight;

Yet pierced by sin the serpent's tooth,

I mourn the anguish of the bite.

But though the poison lurks within,

Hope bids me still with patience wait;

Till death shall set me free from sin,

Free from the only thing I hate.

Had I a throne above the rest,

Where angels and archangels dwell,

One sin, unslain, within my breast,

Would make that heaven as dark as hell.

The prisoner sent to breathe fresh air,

And blest with liberty again,

Would mourn were he condemn'd to wear

One link of all his former chain.

But, oh! no foe invades the bliss,

When glory crowns the Christian's head;

One look at Jesus as He is

Will strike all sin forever dead.

LVII. The New Convert

The new-born child of gospel grace,

Like some fair tree when summer's nigh,

Beneath Emmanuel's shining face

Lifts up his blooming branch on high.

No fears he feels, he sees no foes,

No conflict yet his faith employs,

Nor has he learnt to whom he owes

The strength and peace his soul enjoys.

But sin soon darts its cruel sting,

And comforts sinking day by day,

What seem'd his own, a self-fed spring,

Proves but a brook that glides away.

When Gideon arm'd his numerous host,

The Lord soon made his numbers less;

And said, "Lest Israel vainly boast,

My arm procured me this success!"

Thus will He bring our spirits down,

And draw our ebbing comforts low,

That saved by grace, but not our own,

We may not claim the praise we owe.

True and False Comforts

O God, whose favorable eye,

The sin-sick soul revives,

Holy and heavenly is the joy

Thy shining presence gives.

Not such as hypocrites suppose,

Who with a graceless heart

Taste not of Thee, but drink a dose,

Prepared by Satan's art.

Intoxicating joys are theirs,

Who while they boast their light,

And seem to soar above the stars,

Are plunging into night.

Lull'd in a soft and fatal sleep,

They sin and yet rejoice;

Were they indeed the Saviour's sheep,

Would they not hear His voice?

Be mine the comforts that reclaim

The soul from Satan's power;

That make me blush for what I am,

And hate my sin the more.

'Tis joy enough, my All in All,

At Thy dear feet to lie;

Thou wilt not let me lower fall,

And none can higher fly.

LIX. A Living and a Dead Faith

The Lord receives his highest praise

From humble minds and hearts sincere;

While all the loud professor says

Offends the righteous Judge's ear.

To walk as children of the day,

To mark the precepts' holy light,

To wage the warfare, watch, and pray,

Show who are pleasing in His sight.

Not words alone it cost the Lord,

To purchase pardon for His own;

Nor will a soul by grace restored

Return the Saviour words alone.

With golden bells, the priestly vest,

And rich pomegranates border'd round,

The need of holiness expressed,

And called for fruit as well as sound.

Easy indeed it were to reach

A mansion in the courts above,

If swelling words and fluent speech

Might serve instead of faith and love.

But none shall gain the blissful place,

Or God's unclouded glory see,

Who talks of free and sovereign grace,

Unless that grace has made him free!

LX. Abuse of the Gospel

Too many, Lord, abuse Thy grace

In this licentious day,

And while they boast they see Thy face,

They turn their own away.

Thy book displays a gracious light

That can the blind restore;

But these are dazzled by the sight,

And blinded still the more.

The pardon such presume upon,

They do not beg but steal;

And when they plead it at Thy throne,

Oh! where's the Spirit's seal?

Was it for this, ye lawless tribe,

The dear Redeemer bled?

Is this the grace the saints imbibe

From Christ the living head?

Ah, Lord, we know Thy chosen few

Are fed with heavenly fare;

But these, -- the wretched husks they chew,

Proclaim them what they are.

The liberty our hearts implore

Is not to live in sin;

But still to wait at Wisdom's door,

Till Mercy calls us in.

LXI. The Narrow Way

What thousands never knew the road!

What thousands hate it when 'tis known!

None but the chosen tribes of God

Will seek or choose it for their own.

A thousand ways in ruin end,

One only leads to joys on high;

By that my willing steps ascend,

Pleased with a journey to the sky.

No more I ask or hope to find

Delight or happiness below;

Sorrow may well possess the mind

That feeds where thorns and thistles grow.

The joy that fades is not for me,

I seek immortal joys above;

There glory without end shall be

The bright reward of faith and love.

Cleave to the world, ye sordid worms,

Contented lick your native dust!

But God shall fight with all his storms,

Against the idol of your trust.

LXII. Dependence

To keep the lamp alive,

With oil we fill the bowl;

'Tis water makes the willow thrive,

And grace that feeds the soul.

The Lord's unsparing hand

Supplies the living stream;

It is not at our own command,

But still derived from Him.

Beware of Peter's word,

Nor confidently say,

"I never will deny Thee, Lord," --

But, -- "Grant I never may."

Man's wisdom is to seek

His strength in God alone;

And e'en an angel would be weak,

Who trusted in his own.

Retreat beneath his wings,

And in His gace confide!

This more exalts the King of kings

Than all your works beside.

In Jesus is our store,

Grace issues from His throne;

Whoever says, "I want no more,"

Confesses he has done.

LXIII. Not Works

Grace, triumphant in the throne,

Scorns a rival, reigns alone;

Come and bow beneath her sway;

Cast your idol works away!

Works of man, when made his plea,

Never shall accepted be;

Fruits of pride (vainglorious worm!)

Are the best he can perform.

Self, the god his soul adores,

Influences all his powers;

Jesus is a slighted name,

Self-advancement all his aim:

But when God the Judge shall come,

To pronounce the final doom,

Then for rocks and hills to hide

All his works and all his pride!

Still the boasting heart replies,

What the worthy and the wise,

Friends to temperance and peace,

Have not these a righteousness?

Banish every vain pretence

Built on human excellence;

Perish everything in man,

But the grace that never can.

LXIV. Praise for Faith

Of all the gifts Thine hand bestows,

Thou Giver of all good!

Not heaven itself a richer knows

Than my Redeemer's blood.

Faith too, the blood-receiving grace,

From the same hand we gain;

Else, sweetly as it suits our case,

That gift had been in vain.

Till Thou Thy teaching power apply,

Our hearts refuse to see,

And weak, as a distemper'd eye,

Shut out the view of Thee.

Blind to the merits of Thy Son,

What misery we endure!

Yet fly that Hand from which alone

We could expect a cure.

We praise Thee, and would praise Thee more,

To Thee our all we owe:

The precious Saviour, and the power

That makes Him precious too.

LXV. Grace and Providence

Almighty King! whose wondrous hand

Supports the weight of sea and land;

Whose grace is such a boundless store,

No heart shall break that sighs for more.

Thy providence supplies my food,

And 'tis Thy blessing makes it good;

My soul is nourish'd by Thy Word,

Let soul and body praise the Lord!

My streams of outward comfort came

From Him who built this earthly frame;

Whate'er I want His bounty gives,

By whom my soul forever lives.

Either His hand preserves from pain,

Or, if I feel it, heals again;

From Satan's malice shields my breast,

Or overrules it for the best.

Forgive the song that falls so low

Beneath the gratitude I owe!

It means Thy praise: however poor,

An angel's song can do no more.

LXVI. I Will Prise the Lord at All Times

Winter has a joy for me,

While the Saviour's charms I read,

Lowly, meek, from blemish free,

In the snowdrop's pensive head.

Spring returns, and brings along

Life-invigorating suns:

Hark! the turtle's plaintive song

Seems to speak His dying groans!

Summer has a thousand charms,

All expressive of His worth;

'Tis His sun that lights and warms,

His the air the cools the earth.

What! has autumn left to say

Nothing of a Saviour's grace?

Yes, the beams of milder day

Tell me of his smiling face.

Light appears with early dawn,

While the sun makes haste to rise;

See His bleeding beauties drawn

On the blushes of the skies.

Evening with a silent pace,

Slowly moving in the west,

Shews an emblem of His grace,

Points to an eternal rest.

Longing to be with Christ

To Jesus, the crown of my hope,

My soul is in haste to be gone;

O bear me, ye cherubim, up,

And waft me away to His throne!

My Saviour, whom absent I love,

Whom, not having seen I adore;

Whose name is exalted above

All glory, dominion, and power;

Dissolve thou these bonds that detain

My soul from her portion in thee.

Ah! strike off this adamant chain,

And make me eternally free.

When that happy era begins,

When arrayed in Thy glories I shine,

Nor grieve any more, by my sins,

The bosom on which I recline.

Oh then shall the veil be removed,

And round me Thy brightness be pour'd,

I shall meet Him whom absent I loved,

Shall see Him whom unseen I adored.

And then, never more shall the fears,

The trials, temptation, and woes,

Which darken this valley of tears,

Intrude on my blissful repose.

Or, if yet remember'd above,

Remembrance no sadness shall raise,

They will be but new signs of Thy love,

New themes for my wonder and praise.

Thus the strokes which from sin and from pain

Shall set me eternally free,

Will but strengthen and rivet the chain

Which binds me, my Saviour, to Thee.

LXIII. Light Shining out of Darkness

God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;

He plants His footsteps in the sea,

And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never-failing skill,

He treasures up His bright designs,

And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,

The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy, and shall break

In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,

But trust Him for His grace;

Behind a frowning providence

He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,

Unfolding every hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,

But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,

And scan His work in vain:

God is His own interpreter,

And he will make it plain.

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