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4 With golden bells, the priestly vest, **

And rich pomegranates border'd round,
The need of holiness express'd,
And call’d for fruit as well as sound.

5 Easy, indeed, it were to reach

A mansion in the courts above,
If swelling words, and fluent speech,

Might serve, instead of faith and love. 6 But none shall gain the blissful place,

Or God's unclouded glory see,
Who talks of free and sov’reign grace,
Unless that grace has made him free.



1 TOO many, LORD, abuse thy grace,

In this licentious day ;
And while they boast they see thy face,

They turn their own away.
2 Thy book displays a gracious light

That can the blind restore ;
But these are dazzled by the sight,

And blinded still the more.

Exodus, xxviii. 33.

3 The pardon such presume upong

They do not beg, but steal ;
And when they plead it at thy throne,

Oh, where's the Spirit's seal ? 4 Was it for this, ye lawless tribe,

The dear Redeemer bled ?
Is this the grace the saints imbibe

From Christ the living head ?
5 Ah, LORD, we know thy chosen few

Are fed with heav'nly fare;
But these the wretched husks they chew

Proclaim them what they are. 6 The liberty our hearts implore

Is not to live in sin ;
But still to wait at wisdom's door,

Till mercy calls us in.



I WHAT thousands never knew the road!

What thousands hate it when 'tis known! None but the chosen tribes of God

Will seek or choose it for their own. 2 A thousand ways in ruin end ;

One only leads to joys on high ;
By that my willing steps ascend,
Pleas’d with a journey to the sky.

3 No more I ask, or hope to find,

Delighe or happiness below ;
Sorrow may well possess the mind

That feeds where thorns and thistles grow. 4 The joy that fades is not for me ;

I seek immortal joys above ;
There, glory without end shall be

The bright reward of faith and love.
5 Cleave to the world, ye sordid worms,

Contented lick your native dust;
But God shall fight, with all his storms,
Against the idol of your trust.



1 OH! for a closer walk with God,

A calm and heav'nly frame ;
A light to shine upon the road

That leads me to the Lamb !
2 Where is the blessedness I knew,

Where is the soul refreshing view

Of Jesus and his word ? 3 What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd ! : How sweet their mem'ry still ! But they lave left an aching void

The world can never fill.

4 Return, O holy Dove, return,

Sweet messenger of rest ;
I hate the sins that made thee mourns

And drove thee from my breast.

5 The dearest idol I have known,

Whate'er that idol be, Help me to tear it from thy throne,

And worship only thee. 6 So shall my walk be close with God,

Calm and serene my frame ;
So purer light shall mark the road.

That leads me to the Lamb.



2 TO keep the lamp alive,

With oil we fill the bowl ; : 'Tis water makes the willow thrive,

And grace that feeds the soul. 2 The Lord's unsparing hand

Supplies the living stream;
It is not at our own command,

But still deriv'd from him.

Ź Beware of Peter's word,*

Nor confidently say,
.6 I never will deny thee, LORD,"

But grant I never may.
4 Man's wisdom is to seek

His strength in God alone ;
. And e'en an angel would be weak,

Who trusted in his own.

5 Retreat beneath his wings,

And in his grace confide ;
This more exalts the King of kingst

Than all your works beside.
6 In Jesus is our store ;

.. Grace issues from his throne ;
Whoever says, “I want no more,"

Confesses he has none.

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I GRACE, triumphant in the throne,

Scorns a rival, reigns alone !
Come and bow beneath her sway,
Cast your idol works away:

* Matt. xxvi. 33.

† John, vi. 29.

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