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No, saith the Lord, with all his faults,

I still remember him.
5 Is he a dear and pleasant child !

Yes, dear and pleasant still ;
Though sin his foolish heart beguild,

And he withstood my will.
6 My sharp rebuke has laid him low,

He seeks my face again ; My pity kindles at his woe,

He shall not seek in vain.

XII.
THE COVENANT.--EZEK. XXXVI. 25--28.

1 THE LORD proclaims his grace abroad!

Behold I change your hearts of stone :
Each shall renounce his idol-god,

And serve, henceforth, the Lord alone. 2 My grace, a flowing stream proceeds,

To wash your filthiness away ;
Ye shall abhor your former deeds,

And learn my statutes to obey.
3 My truth the great design insures,

I give myself away to you!
You shall be mine, I will be yours,

Your God unalterably true.
4 Yet not unsought, or unimplor'd,

The plenteous grace shall I confer;

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No-your whole hearts shall seek the LORD,

I'll put a praying spirit there.
s From the first breath of life divine,

Down to the last expiring hour ;
The gracious work shall all be mine,
Begun and ended in my pow'r.

XIII.
JEHOVAH-SHAMMAH.--EZEK. xlviii. 35.
I AS birds their infant brood protect, *

And spread their wings to shelter them;
Thus saith the LORD to his elect,
“ So will I guard Jerusalem.”
2 And what then is Jerusalem,

This darling object of his care?
Where is its worth in God's esteem?
Who built it ?-who inhabits there?
3 JEHOVAH founded it in blood,

The blood of his incarnate Son ;
There dwell the saints, once foes to God,

The sinners whom he calls his own.
4 There, though besieg'd on ev'ry side,

Yet much belov'd and guarded well ;
From age to age they have defy'd
The utmost force of earth and hell.

Isaiah, sxxi. 5.

5 Let earth repent, and hell despair,

This city has a sure defence ;
Her name is call'd, The Lord is there,
And who has pow'r to drive them thence ?

XIV.
PRAISE FOR THE FOUNTAIN OPENED.--ZECH. xiii. I.

I THERE is a fountain fill'd with blood,

Drawn from Emmanuel's veins ;
And sinners, plung'd beneath that flood,

Lose all their guilty stains.

2 The dying thief rejoic'd to see

That fountain in his day;
And there have I, as vile as he,

Wash'd all my sins away.
3 Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood

Shall never lose its pow'r,
Till all the ransom'd church of God

Be sav'd to sin no more.

. 4 E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream

Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,

And shall be till I die.

5 Then in a nobler, sweeter song

I'll sing thy pow'r to save ;
When this poor lisping stamm'ring tongue

Lies silent in the grave.

6 LORD, I believe thou hast prepar'd

(Unworthy though I be)
For me a blood-bought free reward,

A golden harp for me. 7 'Tis strung, and tun'd, for endless years,

And form’d by pow'r divine,
To sound in God the Father's ears

No other name but thine.

XV.

THE SOWER.--MATTHEW, xii. 3. 1 YE sons of earth prepare the plough,

Break up your fallow ground !
The sower is gone forth to sow,

And scatter blessings round. 2 The seed that finds a stony soil

Shoots forth a hasty blade ;
But ill repays the sower's toil,

Soon wither'd, scorch'd, and dead. 3 The thorny ground is sure to balk

All hopes of harvest there ;
We find a tall and sickly stalk,

But not the fruitful ear.
4 The beaten path and high-way side

Receive the trust in vain :
The watchful birds the prey divide,

And pick up all the grain.

5 But where the LORD of grace and pow'r

Has bless'd the happy field ;
How plenteous is the golden store,

The deep wrought furrows yield. 6 Father of mercies, we have need

Of thy preparing grace ;
Let the same hand that gives the seed

Provide a fruitful place.

XVI.
THE HOUSE or PRAYER.--MARK, xi. 170
I THY mansion is the Christian's heart,

O Lord, thy dwelling-place secure !
Bid the unruly throng depart,

And leave the consecrated door. 2 Devoted as it is to thee,

A thievish swarm frequents the place ;
They steal away my joys from me,

And rob my Saviour of his praise. ( 3 There too a sharp designing trade

Sin, Satan, and the world maintain ;
Nor cease to press me and persuade

To part with ease and purchase pain. 4 I know them, and I hate their din,

Am weary of the bustling crowd,
But while their voice is heard within,

I cannot serve thee as I would.
5 Oh! for the joy thy presence gives,

What peace shall reign when thou art here!

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