Never to murmur at thy tay,
Or with my suff`rings less.
I want a fober inind,
A felf-renouncing will,
That tramples down, and cafts behind,
The baits of pleafing ill.

I want a godly fear,
A quick difcerning eye,
That looks to thee, when fin is near,
And fees the tempter fly.

I want a true regard,

A fingle fteady aim,

(Unmov'd by threat'ning or reward)
To thee and thy great name.

I want a juft concern
For thine immortal praise;
defire that all may learn
And glorify thy grace.

A pure

I want, with all my heart,
Thy pleasure to fulfil;
To know myself, and what thou art,
And what thy perfect will.

I want, I know not what

I want my wants to fee:
I want-alas! what want I not,
When thou art not with me!

XL. Refuge in Trouble. C. M.

DEAR

EAR Refuge of my weary foul,
On thee, when forrows rife ;

On thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies.

Come, ye finners, poor and wretched
Come, Holy Ghoft, our hearts infpire
Confirm the hope thy word allows

Dear Refuge of my weary foul
Dear Shepherd of thy people, hear
Difmifs us with thy blefling, Lord

Encourag'd by thy word

Faith!-'tis a precious grace

Father! how wide thy glory fhines
Father! to thee my foul I lift

Father, before we hence depart

Father of all, in whom alone

From heav'n th' loud, th' angelic, &c.

Giver of concord, Prince of peace

Glory to God on high

Go, ye that reft upon the law

God of all redeeming grace

God, the offended God, moft high God moves in a mysterious way Grace, 'tis a charming found Granted is the Saviour's prayer Great God, this facred day of thine Great God of heav'n and nature, rife Guide me, O thou great Jeho vah

Had I ten thousand gifts befide Hail! the day that fees him rife Hark! my foul, it is the Lord Hark, the herald angels fing Hark, the voice of love and mercy Hark, hark! the gofpel trumpet founds He comes, he comes! the Judge severe He dies! the friend of finners dies Ho! every one that thirsts, draw nigh Holy Ghoft difpel our fadnefs Holy Spirit, thee we pray Holy Lamb! who thee receive

To thee, I tell each rifing grief,
For thou alone can't heal;
Thy word can bring a sweet relief,
For ev'ry pain I feel.

Haft thou not bid me leek thy face?
And fhall I feek in vain ?
And can the ear of fov'reign grace
Be deaf when I complain?
No; still the ear of sov'reign grace
Attends the mourner's pray'r;
O may I ever find accefs

To breathe my forrows there.
Thy mercy-feat is open ftill;
Here let my foul retreat ;
With humble hope attend thy will,
And wait beneath thy feet.

XLI. Mary's Choice. L. M.

BESEF with fhares on ev'ry hand,

In life's uncertain path I ftand;
Saviour divine! diffute thy light,
To guide my doubtful footsteps right.
Engage this roving, treach'rous heart,
Great God, to choofe the better part;
To fcorn the trifles of a day,

For joys that none can take away.
Then let the wildeft ftorms arife;
Let tempetts mingle earth and skies;
No fatal hipwreck shall I fear,
But all my treafures with me bear.
If thou, my Jefus, ftill art nigh,
Chearful I live, and chearful die :
Secure, when mortal comforts flee,
To find ten thousand worlds in thee.

Ꭲ.

D.

XLII. Chriff's condefcending Regard to
little Children. C. M.

SEE Ifrael's gentle thepherd stand
With all-engaging charms;
Hark how he calls the tender lambs,
And folds them in his arms.

"Permit them to approach (he cries)
"Nor fcorn their humble name;
"For 'twas to blefs fuch fouls as thefe,
"The Lord of angels came."

We bring them, Lord, in thankful hands,
And yield them up to thee;
Joyful, that we ourselves are thine;
Thine let our offspring be.

Ye little flock, with pleasure hear:
Ye children, feek his face;
And fly with transport to receive
The bleffings of his grace.

If orphans they are left behind,
Thy guardian-care we truft;

That care fhall heal our bleeding hearts,
If weeping o'er their duft.

F

XLIII. Faith. S. M.

AITH-'tis a precious grace,
Where'er it is beftow'd;

It boafts of a celeftial birth,
And is the gift of God!

Jefus it owns a King,
An all-atoning Prieft;

It claims no merit of its own,
But looks for all in Chrift.

D,