THE path to glory lies
Through conflict and distress;
But joyful we at length shall rise,
The kingdom to possess.

"Tis needful that we bear
Our Father's rod of love;
We pass through great affliction here,
To fit for heaven above.

We learn his will divine
Beneath his chast'ning rod;
It purifies the soul from sin,
And brings us near to God,
Then, patient, we'll sustain
The burdens of the day;
And wait till sorrow, toil, and pain,
Shall all be done away.

THERE is a fountain fill'd with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel's veins,
And sinners, plung'd beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoic'd to see

That fountain in his day;
And there would I, defil'd as he,
Wash all my sins away.

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.

Then in a nobler, sweeter song,

I'll sing thy pow'r to save,

S. M.

C. M.

When this poor lisping, stamm'ring tongue,

Lies silent in the grave.

152.

ST. FAITH'S.

D. C. M.

THERE is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign;
Eternal day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.
There everlasting spring abides,
And never fading flowers:
Death, like a narrow sea, divides
That heavenly land from ours.
Oh, could we all our doubts remove,-
Those gloomy doubts that rise;
And see the Canaan that we love
With faith's unclouded eyes:
Could we but stand where Moses stood,
And view the landscape o'er,

Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood,
Shall fright us from the shore.

THE saints on earth and those above

But one communion make;

Join'd to the Lord in bonds of love

All of his grace partake.

One family we dwell in Him,

One church above, beneath,
Though now divided by the stream,

The narrow stream of death.

One army of the living God,

To his command we bow;

Part of the host have cross'd the flood,
And part are crossing now.

Lord Jesus! be our constant guide!
Then, when the word is given,

Bid death's cold flood its waves divide,
And land us safe in heaven.

C. M.

THE Saviour lives, no more to die:
He lives, the Lord enthron'd on high;
He lives, triumphant o'er the grave:
He lives, eternally to save!

He lives, to still his servants' fears:
He lives, to wipe away their tears:
He lives, their mansions to prepare:
He lives, to bring them safely there.
Ye mourning souls, dry up your tears:
Dismiss your gloomy doubts and fears:
And let your hearts, assur'd, revive,
For Christ the Lord is yet alive!
His saints he loves, and never leaves,
All contrite sinners he receives :
Abundant grace will he afford,
Till all are present with the Lord!

L. M.

155.

BELLEFIELD.

C. M.

THE Saviour! oh what endless charms
Dwell in the blissful sound!

Its influence ev'ry fear disarms,

And spreads sweet comfort round.

God's only Son (stupendous grace)
Forsook his throne above,
And swift, to save our wretched race,
He flew on wings of love.

Th' almighty Former of the skies
Stoop'd to our vile abode ;

Which angels view'd with wond'ring eyes,
And hail'd th' incarnate God.

O the rich depths of love divine!

Of bliss a boundless store!

Blest Saviour, let me call thee mine,-
I cannot wish for more.

THE Sun of Righteousness appears
To set in blood no more:

r

The light, which scatters all your fea s,
Your rising God adore.

The saints, when he resign'd his breath,
Unclos'd their sleeping eyes;

He breaks again the bands of death,
Again the dead arise.

Alone the dreadful race he ran,
Alone the wine-press trod;
He groans, he dies, behold the man!
He lives, behold the God!

In vain the stone, the watch, the seal,
Forbid the Saviour's rise;

He breaks the gates of death and hell,
And opens Paradise.

THE year rolls round, and steals away
The breath that first it gave;

Whate'er we do, where'er we be,

We're trav'lling to the grave.

Great God, on what a slender thread
Hang everlasting things!
Th' eternal states of all the dead

Upon life's feeble strings!

Infinite joy or endless woe

Attends on ev'ry breath;
And yet how unconcern'd we go
Upon the brink of death.

Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense
To walk this dangerous road;
And if our souls are hurried hence,
May they be found with God.

C. M.

0. M.

158.

ST. DUNSTAN'S.

THIS is the day the Lord hath blest,
The day to us in mercy giv'n,
The holy sabbath of his rest,

The pledge and type of rest in heav'n.
This day within thy courts, O Lord,
Thy saints delight to seek thy face,
To sing thy praises, hear thy word,
Unfold their wants, and taste thy grace.
May we the blest assembly join,
To God devote this sacred day,
Our earthly cares and thoughts resign,
Look up to heav'n, and learn the way.
May we, by ev'ry sabbath, grow
In grace, humility, and love;
Thus by thy holy rest below,
Made fitter for thy rest above.

L. M.

P. M.

THOU Friend of sinners! who hast bought
Our freedom with thy precious blood;
Whose grace my wand'ring feet hath sought
To bring me to the fold of God:

My sins forgive, my fears remove,

Aud fill my grateful heart with love.
Thee let my ardent soul pursue;
To thee with fervent love aspire;
Oh, may thy Spirit still renew
Within my heart that heav'nly fire!
And ever prompt my jealous care
To guard the sacred treasure there.
In suff'ring, be thy love my peace;
In weakness, be thy love my power;
And when this mortal life shall cease
Bless with thy love my latest hour:
My strength in life,—that thou dost guide;
My hope in death,-that thou hast died.