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P. M.

178.
8T. BENB'T.

(6-8's.)
WHEN gath'ring clouds around I view,
When days are dark, and friends are few,
On him I lean, who, not in vain,
Experienc'd ev'ry human pain :
He sees my griefs, allays my fears,
And counts and treasures up my tears.
If aught should tempt my soul to stray
From heav'nly wisdom's narrow way,
To flee the good I would pursue,
Or do the sin I would not do;
Still He, who felt temptation's power,
Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.
And Oh! when I have safely past
Through ev'ry conflict but the last,
Still, Lord, unchanging, watch beside
My bed of death, for thou hast died:
Then point to realms of cloudless day,

And wipe the latest tear away. 179.

ROCKINGHAM.
WHEN I survey the wondrous cross,
On which the Prince of Glory died ;
My richest gain I count but loss ;
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God :
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.
See from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down;
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a tribute far too small ;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

L. M.

MARTYRDON.

C. M.

180.

WHEN languor and disease invade

This trembling house of clay,
'Tis sweet to look beyond our cage,

And long to fly away.
Sweet to reflect how grace divine

My sins on Jesus laid ;
Sweet to remember that his blood

My debt of sufferings paid.
Sweet on his righteousness to stand,

Which saves from second death;
Sweet to experience, day by day,

His spirit's quick’ning breath.
Sweet on his faithfulness to rest,

Whose love can never end;
Sweet on his covenant of grace,

For all things to depend. 181. ANGELS' SONG.

L. M.
WHEN like a stranger on our sphere,
The lowly Jesus wander'd here,
Where'er he went affliction fled,
And sickness rear'd her fainting head.
The eye that roll’d in irksome night,
Beheld his face- for God is light;
The opening ear, the loosen'd tongue,
His precepts heard, his praises sung.
With bounding steps, the halt and lame,
To hail their great Deliverer came ;
O’er the cold grave He bow'd his head,
He spake the word, and rais'd the dead.
Through paths of loving kindness led,
Where Jesus triumph'd we would tread;
To all with willing hands, dispense
The mite of our benevolence.

C. M.

LONDON NEW

C. M.

182.

DEVIZES.
WHEN, O my Saviour, when shall I

Behold thee all serene,
Bless'd in an endless sabbath day,

Without a veil between?
Assist me while I wander here,

Amidst a world of cares;
Incline my roving heart to pray,

And then accept my pray’rs.
Spare me, my God; O spare the soul

That gives itself to thee!
Take all that I possess below,

And give thyself to me.
Thy Spirit, O my Father, give,

To be my guide and friend ;
To light my path to ceaseless joys,

Where sabbaths never end. 183.

WHEN rising from the bed of death,

O’erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,
I see my Maker face to face,

Oh, how shall I appear?
If yet while pardon may be found,

And mercy may be sought,
My heart with inward horror shrinks,

And trembles at the thought ;
When thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclos'd

In majesty severe,
To sit in judgment on my soul,
O how shall I

appear ?
But thou hast told the troubled mind,

Who doth her sins lament,
That faith in Christ's atoning blood

Shall endless woe prevent.
Then never shall my soul despair

Thy pardon to procure;
Since Christ thine only Son hath died,

To make that pardon sure.

HELEN.

D. C. M.

184.

WHILE thee I seek, protecting Power,
Be
my

vain wishes still’d;
And may this consecrated hour

With better thoughts be fill’d.
Thy love the power of thought bestow'd;

To thee my thoughts would soar :
Thy mercy o'er my life hath flow'd;

That mercy I adore.
In each event of life, how clear

Thy ruling hand I see !
Each blessing to my soul more dear,

Because bestow'd by thee.
In ev'ry joy that crowns my days;

In ev'ry pain I bear,
My heart shall find delight in praise,

Or seek relief in prayer. 185.

BELLEFIELD.
WITH pitying eyes the Prince of Grace

Beheld our helpless grief;
He saw, and oh, amazing love!

He came to our relief.
Down from the shining seats above,

With joyful haste he fled;
Enter'd the grave in mortal flesh,

And dwelt among the dead.
Oh, for this love let rocks and hills

Their lasting silence break !
And all harmonious human tongues

The Saviour's praises speak !
Angels! assist our mighty joys,

Strike all your harps of gold;
But when you raise your highest notes,

His love can ne'er be told.

C. M.

186.

PORTSMOUTH NEW. P. M. (4-6's & 2-8's.)

YES, the Redeemer rose;
The Saviour left the dead;
And o'er our common foes
High rais'd his conqu'ring head :

In wild dismay,
The guards around
Fell to the ground
And sunk away.

Lo, the angelic bands
In full assembly meet,
To wait his high commands,
And worship at his feet :

Joyful they come,
And wing their way
From realms of day
To his blest tomb:

Then back to heaven they fly,
And the glad tidings bear;
Hark! as they soar on high,
What music fills the air !

Their anthems say,

Jesus who bled,
Hath left the dead;
He rose to-day.”

All hail, triumphant Lord,
Who sav'st us with thy blood !
Wide be thy name ador’d,
Thou rising, reigning God;

With thee we rise,
With thee we reign,
And empires gain
Beyond the skies.

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