'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home.
Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the vail,
A life of joy and peace.
235. Self-denial.
AND must I part with all I have,
My dearest Lord, for thee?
It is but right, since thou hast done
Much more than this for me.
Yes, let it go-one look from thee
Will more than make amends
For all the losses I sustain
Of credit, riches, friends.
Ten thousand worlds, ten thousand lives,
How worthless they appear
Compar'd with thee, supremely good,
Divinely bright and fair!
Saviour of souls, could I from thee
A single smile obtain,
Tho' destitute of all things else,
I'd glory in my gain.
236. Christian Hope in God.
BE still my heart! these anxious cares.
To thee are burdens, thorns, and snares,
They cast dishonour on thy Lord,
And contradict his gracious word.
Brought safely by his hand thus far,
Why wilt thou now give place to fear?
How canst thou want, if he provide,
Or lose thy way with such a guide?
When first before his mercy-seat
Thou didst to him thy all commit,
He gave thee warrant, from that hour,
To trust his wisdom, love, and pow'r.
Did ever trouble yet befal,
And he refuse to hear thy call ?
And has he not his promise past
That thou shalt overcome at last?
Like David, thou may'st comfort draw,
Sav'd from the bear's and lion's paw;
Goliah's rage I may defy,
For God, my Saviour, still is nigh.
He who has help'd me hitherto
Will help me all my journey thro',
And give me daily cause to raise
New Ebenezers to his praise.
Tho' rough and thorny be the road,
It leads thee home apace to God;
Then count thy present trials small,
For heav'n will make amends for all.
237. Ask and receive.
BEHOLD the throne of grace! The promise calls me near; There Jesus shews a smiling face, And waits to answer pray'r.
That rich atoning blood,
Which sprinkled round I see,
Provides for those who come to God
An all-prevailing plea.
My soul, ask what thou wilt,
Thou canst not be too bold;
Since his own blood for thee he spilt,
What else can he withhold?
Beyond thy utmost wants
His love and pow'r can bless;
To praying souls he always grants
More than they can express.
Since 'tis the Lord's command,
My mouth I open wide;
Lord, open thou thy bounteous hand,
That I may be supply'd,
Thine image, Lord, bestow,
Thy presence and thy love;
I ask to serve thee here below,
And reign with thee above.
Teach me to live by faith, Conform my will to thine; Let me victorious be in death, And then in glory shine,
If thou these blessings give, And wilt my portion be, Cheerful the world's poor toys I leave To them who know not thee.
Christian Conflict.
BESIDE the gospel-pool,
Appointed for the poor,
From year to year my helpless soul
Has waited for a cure.
How often have I seen
The healing waters move,
And others, round me, stepping in,
Their efficacy prove!
But my complaints remain;
I feel the very same;
As full of guilt, and fear, and pain,
As when at first I came.
O would the Lord appear
My malady to heal,
He knows how long I've languish'd here, And what distress I feel.
How often have I thought
Why should I longer lie?
Surely the mercy I have sought
Is not for such as I!
But whither can I go?
There is no other pool
Where streams of sov'reign virtue flow
To make a sinner whole.
Here then, from day to day,
I'll wait, and hope, and try;
Can Jesus hear a sinner pray,
Yet suffer him to die?
No: he is full of grace;
He never will permit
A soul that fain would see his face
To perish at his feet.
239. The Christian waiting.
BREATHE from the gentle south, O Lord,
And cheer me from the north;
Blow on the treasures of thy word,
And call the spices forth!
I wish, thou know'st, to be resign'd,
And wait with patient hope;
But hope delay'd fatigues the mind,
And drinks the spirits up.
Help me to reach the distant goal,
Confirm my feeble knee,
Pity the sickness of a soul
That faints for love of thee.
Cold as I feel this heart of mine.
Yet since I feel it so,
It yields some hope of life divine
Within, however low.
I seem forsaken and alone,
I hear the lion roar;
And ev'ry door is shut but one,
And that is mercy's door.
There, 'till the dear Deliv'rer come,
I'll wait with humble pray'r;
And when he calls his exile home,
The Lord shall find him there.
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