4 Now may our joyful tongues Jesus, the priest, receives our songs, 5 We bow before His face, And sound His glories high. 6 On earth Thy mercy reigns, But, Lord! how weak our mortal strains To speak immortal love! L ORD, thou hast won, at length I yield; Against Thy terrors long I strove, 2 All that a wretch could do, I tried, 3 But since Thou hast Thy love revealed, Could'st Thou for such a sinner bleed? NEWTON. 109. MY former arb gius; Y former hopes are fled, I feel, alas! that I am dead 2 Ah! whither shall I fly? I hear the thunder roar; 3 When I review my ways, 4 I see, or think I see, A glimmering from afar; 5 Forerunner of the Sun, It marks the pilgrim's way; S. M. COWPER WELCOME, welcome, dear Redeemer, Welcome to this heart of mine: Lord, I make a full surrender; Through eternal ages Thine. 2 Known to all shall be Thy mansion, Shout, ye saints, the Lord is here! IN songs of sublimado whion ass, of sublime adoration and praise, Break forth and extol the great Ancient of days, His rich and distinguishing grace. 2 His love, from eternity fixed upon you, Broke forth and discovered its flame, When each with the cords of His kindness He drew, And brought you to love His great name. 3 Oh! had not He pitied the state you were in, Your bosoms His love had ne'er felt; You all would have lived, would have died too in sin, And sunk with the load of your guilt. 4 What was there in you that could merit esteem, Or give the Creator delight? 'Twas "Even so, Father," you ever must sing, "Because it seemed good in Thy sight." 5 'Twas all of Thy grace we were brought to obey; While others were suffered to go The road which by nature we chose as our way, That leads to the regions of wo. 6 Then give all the glory to His holy name, To Him all the glory belongs; Be yours the high joy still to sound forth His fame, And crown Him in each of your songs. VI. PRAYER. S. M. 112. EHOLD the throne of grace! There Jesus shows a smiling face, 2 That rich atoning blood, Which sprinkled round I see, Provides for those who come to God An all-prevailing plea. 3 My soul, ask what thou wilt, Thou canst not be too bold; Since His own blood for thee He spilt, 113. HE praying spirit breathe, From all entanglements beneath NEWTON. S. M. |