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1 MY soul is sad, and much dismay'd !

See, Lord, what legions of my foes,
With fierce Appolyon at their head,

My heav'nly pilgrimage oppose ! 2 See, from the ever-burning lake,

How like a smoky cloud they rise !
With horrid blasts my soul they shake,
With storms of blasphemies and lies.

3 Their fiery arrows reach the mark ;*

My throbbing heart with anguish tear ;
Each lights upon a kindred spark,
And finds abundant fuel there.

4 I hate the thought that wrongs the LORD;

Oh, I would drive it from my breast,
With thy own sharp two-edged sword,

Far as ths east is from the west.
5 Come then, and chase the cruel host,

Heal the deep wounds I have receiv'd!
Nor let the pow'rs of darkness boast,
That I am foild and thou art griev'd!

* Eph. vi. 16.



· 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,
Or harbour one bad thought of thee !
3 Oh! let me then at length be taught,
What I am still so slow to learn ;
That God is love and changes not,
Nor knows the shadow of a turn.
4 Sweet truth, and easy to repeat !

But when my faith is sharply try'd,
I find myself a learner yet,

Unskilful, weak, and apt to slide.
5 But, O my Lord, one look from thee

Subdues the disobedient will ;
Drives doubt and discontent away,

And thy rebellious worm is still. 6 Thou art as ready to forgive,

As I am ready to repine ;
Thou, therefore, all the praise receive ;
Be shame, and self-abhorrence, mine.



THE Saviour hides his face !
My spirit thirsts to prove
Renew'd supplies of pard’ning grace,

And never fading love.
2 The favour'd souls, who know

What glories shine in him,
Pant for his presence, as the roe

Pants for the living stream !
What trifles teaze me now!

They swarm like summer flies ;
They cleave to ev'ry thing I do,

And swim before my eyes.
4. How dull the sabbath-day,

Without the sabbath's LORD!
How toilsome then to sing and pray,

And wait upon the word !
Of all the truths I hear,

How few delight my taste !
I glean a berry here and there,

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,
Unworthy of his care ;
The Lord will my desire performs

And grant me all my pray’r.



I DEAR LORD! accept a sinful heart,

Which of itself complains,
And mourns, with much and frequent smarts

The evil it contains.
The fiery seeds of anger lurk,

Which often hurt my frame ;
And wait but for the tempter's work,

To fan them to a flame.. 3 Legality holds out a bribe

To purchase life from thee ;
And discontent would fain prescribe

How thou shalt deal with me.
4 While unbelief withstands thy grace,

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 !
But ah! when duty calls them home,

How heavily they move !.

6 Oh, cleanse me in a Saviour's blood,

Transform me by thy pow'r,
And make me thy belov'd abode,

And let me rove no more.


I LORD, who hast suffer'd all for me,

My peace and pardon to procure ;
The lighter cross I bear for thee,

Help me with patience to endure. z The storm of loud repining hush,

I would in' humble silence mourn;
Why should th' unburnt, though burning bush,

Be angry as the crackling thorn ?
3 Man should not faint at thy rebuke,

Like Joshua falling on his face,*
When the curs'd thing, that Achan took,

Brought Israel into just disgrace.
5 Perhaps some golden wedge suppressid,

Some secret sin offends my God;
Perhaps the Babylonish vest,

Self-righteousness, provokes the rod. 5 Ah! were I buffeted all day,

Mock’d, crown'd with thorns, and spit upon,
I yet should have no right to say,
My great distress is mine alone.

* Joshua, vii. 10, it.

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