heart

v.6-10
C. M.
Midnight thoughts recollected.

'Twas in the watches of the night
I thought upon thy power,
I kept thy lovely face in sight
Amidst the darkest hour.

My flesh lay resting on my bed,
My soul arose on high:
"My God, my life, my hope," I said,
"Bring thy salvation nigh."

My spirit labors up thine hill,
And climbs the heav'nly road;
But thy right hand upholds me still,
While I pursue my God.

Thy mercy stretches o'er my head
The shadow of thy wings;

Longing after God; or, The love of God better than life.

Great God, indulge my humble claim,
Thou art my hope, my joy, my rest;
The glories that compose thy name
Stand all engaged to make me blest.

Thou great and good, thou just and wise,
Thou art my Father and my God;
And I am thine by sacred ties;
Thy son, thy servant, bought with blood

With heart, and eyes, and lifted hands,
For thee I long, to thee I look,
As travellers in thirsty lands
Pant for the cooling water-brook.

v.1-6
S. M.
Safety in God.

When, overwhelm'd with grief,
My heart within me dies,
Helpless, and far from all relief,
To heav'n I lift mine eyes.

O lead me to the rock
That's high above my head,
And make the covert of thy wings
My shelter and my shade.

Within thy presence, Lord,
For ever I'll abide;
Thou art the tower of my defence,
The refuge where I hide.

Thou givest me the lot
Of those that fear thy name;
If endless life be their reward,

The backslider restored.

O Thou that hear'st when sinners cry,
Though all my crimes before thee lie,
Behold them not with angry look,
But blot their mem'ry from thy book.

Create my nature pure within,
And form my soul averse to sin:
Let thy good Spirit ne'er depart,
Nor hide thy presence from my heart.

I cannot live without thy light
Cast out and banished from thy sight:
Thine holy joys, my God, restore,
And guard me that I fall no more.

Though I have grieved thy Spirit, Lord,

Original and actual sin confessed.

Lord, I am vile, conceived in sin;
And born unholy and unclean;
Sprung from the man whose guilty fall
Corrupts the race, and taints us all.

Soon as we draw our infant breath,
The seeds of sin grow up for death;
Thy law demands a perfect heart,
But we're defiled in every part.

[Great God, create my heart anew,
And form my spirit pure and true;
O make me wise betimes to spy
My danger and my remedy.]

Behold, I fall before thy face;

A penitent pleading for pardon.

Show pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive,
Let a repenting rebel live:
Are not thy mercies large and free?
May not a sinner trust in thee?

My crimes are great, but not surpass
The power and glory of thy grace:
Great God, thy nature hath no bound,
So let thy pard'ning love be found.

O wash my soul from every sin,
And make my guilty conscience clean;
Here on my heart the burden lies,
And past offences pain my eyes.

My lips with shame my sins confess

The glory of Christ, and power of his gospel.

Now be my heart inspired to sing
The glories of my Savior King,
Jesus the Lord; how heav'nly fair
His form! how bright his beauties are!

O'er all the sons of human race
He shines with a superior grace;
Love from his lips divinely flows,
And blessings all his state compose.

Dress thee in arms, most mighty Lord,
Gird on the terror of thy sword,
In majesty and glory ride,
With truth and meekness at thy side.

Thine anger, like a pointed dart,

v.1-5
C. M.
Desertion and hope; or, Complaint of absence from public worship.

With earnest longings of the mind,
My God, to thee I look;
So pants the hunted hart to find
And taste the cooling brook.

When shall I see thy courts of grace,
And meet my God again?
So long an absence from thy face
My heart endures with pain.

Temptations vex my weary soul,
And tears are my repast;
The foe insults without control,
"And where's your God at last?"

'Tis with a mournful pleasure now

v.1-8
L. M.
Charity to the poor; or, Pity to the afflicted.

Blest is the man whose bowels move,
And melt with pity to the poor;
Whose soul, by sympathizing love,
Feels what his fellow saints endure.

His heart contrives for their relief
More good than his own hands can do;
He, in the time of gen'ral grief,
Shall find the Lord has bowels too.

His soul shall live secure on earth,
With secret blessings on his head,
When drought, and pestilence, and dearth
Around him multiply their dead.

v.6-9
C. M.
The incarnation and sacrifice of Christ.

Thus saith the Lord, "Your work is vain
Give your burnt-offerings o'er;
In dying goats, and bullocks slain,
My soul delights no more."

Then spake the Savior, "Lo, I'm here,
My God, to do thy will;
Whate'er thy sacred books declare,
Thy servant shall fulfil.

"Thy law is ever in my sight,
I keep it near my heart;
Mine ears are opened with delight
To what thy lips impart."

And see, the blest Redeemer comes,