66 THY JUDGMENTS ARE LIKE THE GREAT DEEP."

IN every object here I see

Something, O Lord, that leads to Thee:
Firm as the rocks Thy promise stands,
Thy mercies countless as the sands;
Thy love, a sea immensely wide,
Thy grace, an ever-flowing tide.

In every object here I see

Something, my heart, that points at thee:

Hard as the rocks that bound the strand,

Unfruitful as the barren sand,

Deep and deceitful as the ocean,

And, like the tides, in constant motion.

"WAIT THOU ONLY UPON GOD."

WAIT! O my soul, thy Maker's will;
Tumultuous passions, all be still!
Nor let a murmuring thought arise;
His ways are just, his counsels wise.

He in the thickest darkness dwells, Performs his work,-the cause conceals! But though His methods are unknown, Judgment and truth support His throne.

Wait! then, my soul, submissive wait,
Prostrate before His awful seat;
And, midst the terrors of His rod,

Trust in a wise and gracious God.

HE BEHELD THE CITY, AND WEPT OVER IT."

DID Christ o'er sinners weep? And shall our cheeks be dry? Let floods of penitential grief Burst forth from every eye.

The Son of God in tears!
Angels with wonder see!
Be thou astonished, O my soul!
He shed those tears for thee.

He wept that we might weep;
Each sin demands a tear;
In heaven alone no sin is found,

And there's no weeping there.

"YE ARE COME UNTO MOUNT ZION," &c.

YE angels who stand round the throne,
And view my Emmanuel's face,

In rapturous songs make Him known,
Tune, tune your soft harps to His praise :
He formed you the spirits you are,

So happy, so noble, so good;
When others sunk down in despair,
Confirmed by His power ye stood.

Ye saints who stand nearer than they,
And cast your bright crowns at His feet,
His grace and His glory display,
And all His rich mercy repeat:

He snatched you from hell and the grave,
He ransomed from death and despair;
For you He was mighty to save,
Almighty to bring you safe there.

Oh! when will the moment appear,
When I shall unite in your song?
I'm weary of lingering here,
And I to your Saviour belong!
I'm fettered and chained up in clay,

I struggle and pant to be free;

I long to be soaring away,

My God and my Saviour to see!

I want to put on my attire,

Washed white in the blood of the Lamb:

I want to be one of your choir,

And tune my sweet harp to His name :
I want-O I want to be there,
Where sorrow and sin bid adieu :
Your joy and your friendship to share,
To wonder and worship with you!