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THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH.
1 MY soul is sad, and much dismay'd !
See, Lord, what legions of my foes,
My heav'nly pilgrimage oppose ! 2 See, from the ever-burning lake,
How like a smoky cloud they rise !
3 Their fiery arrows reach the mark ;*
My throbbing heart with anguish tear ;
4 I hate the thought that wrongs the LORD;
Oh, I would drive it from my breast,
Far as ths east is from the west.
Heal the deep wounds I have receiv'd!
* Eph. vi. 16.
PEACE AFTER A STORM.
· WHEN darkness long has veil'd my mind, And smiling day once more appears, Then, my Redeemer, then I find
The folly of my doubts and fears. 2 Straight I upbraid my wand'ring heart, And blush that I should ever be
Thus prone to act so base a part,
But when my faith is sharply try'd,
Unskilful, weak, and apt to slide.
Subdues the disobedient will ;
And thy rebellious worm is still. 6 Thou art as ready to forgive,
As I am ready to repine ;
MOURNING AND LONGING,
THE Saviour hides his face !
And never fading love.
What glories shine in him,
Pants for the living stream !
They swarm like summer flies ;
And swim before my eyes.
Without the sabbath's LORD!
And wait upon the word !
How few delight my taste !
But mourn the vintage past. 6 Yet let me, (as I ought)
Still hope to be supply'd ; No pleasure else is worth a thought,
Nor shall I be deny’d.
Though I am but a worm,
And grant me all my pray’r.
I DEAR LORD! accept a sinful heart,
Which of itself complains,
The evil it contains.
Which often hurt my frame ;
To fan them to a flame.. 3 Legality holds out a bribe
To purchase life from thee ;
How thou shalt deal with me.
And puts the mercy by, Presumption, with a brow of brass,
Says, “ Give me or I die."
5. How eager are my thoughts to roam
In quest of what they love !
How heavily they move !.
6 Oh, cleanse me in a Saviour's blood,
Transform me by thy pow'r,
And let me rove no more.
I LORD, who hast suffer'd all for me,
My peace and pardon to procure ;
Help me with patience to endure. z The storm of loud repining hush,
I would in' humble silence mourn;
Be angry as the crackling thorn ?
Like Joshua falling on his face,*
Brought Israel into just disgrace.
Some secret sin offends my God;
Self-righteousness, provokes the rod. 5 Ah! were I buffeted all day,
Mock’d, crown'd with thorns, and spit upon,
* Joshua, vii. 10, it.