3. 'Tis a joy, that seated deep,
Leaves not when we sigh and weep;
Spreads itself in virtuous deeds,
Sighs for woe, in pity bleeds.

4. Stern and awful are its tones

When the patriot martyr groans,
And the death-pulse beating high,
Rapture blends with agony.

5. Tend'rer is the form it wears,
Touch'd in love, dissolved in tears,
When, subdued, at Jesus' feet,
Sinners clasp the mercy-seat.

6. Joy e'en here! a budding flower,
Struggling with the storm and shower,
Till its season to expand,
Planted in its native land.

612. 7s. Single.

1. CHRIST, of all my hopes the ground-
Christ, the spring of all my joy!
Still in Thee let me be found,
Still for Thee my powers employ.

2. Fountain of o'erflowing grace!

Freely from Thy fullness give;
Till I close my earthly race,

Be it "Christ for me to live!"

3. Firmly trusting in Thy blood,

Nothing shall my heart confound;

Safely I shall pass the flood,

Safely reach Immanuel's ground. 4. When I touch the blessed shore,

Back the closing waves shall roll; Death's dark stream shall never more Part from Thee my ravished soul. 5. Thus-O thus an entrance give To the land of cloudless sky; Having known it, "Christ to live," Let me know it "gain to die."

643. 7s. 6 lines.

WINDHAM.

1. CHRIST, whose glory fills the skies, Christ, the true, the only light, Sun of Righteousness, arise,

Triumph o'er the shades of night; Day-spring from on high be near, Day-star in my heart appear.

2. Dark and cheerless is the morn, If Thy light is hid from me; Joyless is the day's return,

Till Thy mercy's beams I see; Till they inward light impart, Warmth and gladness to my heart. 3. Visit, then, this soul of mine;

Pierce the gloom of sin and grief;
Fill me, radiant Sun divine;
Scatter all my unbelief;
More and more Thyself display,
Shining to the perfect day.

C. WESLEY.

BREMEN. C. P. M.

From the Manhattan Coll.

6

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1. How happy are the new-born race,
Partakers of adopting grace!

How pure the bliss they share!
Hid from the world and all its eyes,
Within their heart the blessing lies,
And conscience feels it there.

2. The moment we believe, 't is ours;
And if we love with all our powers

The God from whom it came, And if we serve with hearts sincere, 'Tis still discernable and clear,

An undisputed claim.

3. O messenger of dear delight!
Whose voice dispels the deepest night,
Sweet, peace-proclaiming Dove!
With thee at hand to soothe our pains,
No wish unsatisfied remains,

No task but that of love.

MADAME GUION.

646. C. P. M.

1. LORD, thou hast won-at length I yield;
My heart, by mighty grace compelled,
Surrenders all to Thee:
Against Thy terrors long I strove,
But who can stand against Thy love?-
Love conquers even me.

2. But since Thou hast Thy love reveal'd,
And shown my soul a pardon seal'd,
I can resist no more;

Couldst Thou for such a sinner bleed?
Canst Thou for such a rebel plead?
I wonder and adore!

3. If Thou hadst bid Thy thunders roll,
And lightnings flash to blast my soul,
I still had stubborn been;
But mercy has my heart subdued,
A bleeding Saviour I have viewed,
And now, I hate my sin.

4. Now, Lord, I would be Thine alone-
Come, take possession of Thine own,
For Thou hast set me free;
Released from Satan's hard command,
See all my powers in waiting stand,
To be employed by Thee.

647. C. P. M.

NEWTON.

1. O LOVE divine, how sweet Thou art! When shall I find my willing heart All taken up in Thee?

I thirst, I faint, I die to prove
The greatness of redeeming love,
The love of Christ to me.

2. Stronger his love than death or hell; Its riches are unsearchable;

The first-born sons of light
Desire in vain its depths to see;
They can not reach the mystery,

The length, the breadth, the height.

3. God only knows the love of God;
O that it now were shed abroad
In this poor stony heart!
For this I sigh; for Thee I pine;
This only portion, Lord, be mine,
Be mine the better part!

4. O that I could for ever sit,

With Mary at the Master's feet!

Be this my happy choice,
My only care, delight, and bliss,
My joy, my heaven on earth be this
To hear the Bridegroom's voice!

5. O that I could, with favor'd John,
Recline my weary head upon

The dear Redeemer's breast: From care, and sin, and sorrow free, Give me! O Lord, to find in Thee My everlasting rest!

648. C. P. M.

C. WESLEY.

1. SELF-LOVE no grace in sorrow sees,
Consults her own peculiar ease-
"T is all the bliss she knows;
But nobler aims true Love employ-
In self-denial is her joy,

In suffering her repose.

2. Sorrow and Love go side by side;
Nor height nor depth can e'er divide
Their heaven-appointed bands;
Those dear associates still are one,
Nor, till the race of life is run,
Disjoin their wedded hands.

3. Thy choice and mine shall be the same, Inspirer of that holy flame,

Which must for ever blaze!
To take the cross and follow Thee,
Where love and duty lead, shall be
My portion and my praise.

his crying

3. He freely redeemed, with His blood,
My soul from the confines of hell,
To live on the smiles of my God,
And in His sweet presence to dwell.

4. To shine with the angels in light,

With saints and with seraphs to sing, To view, with eternal delight,

My Jesus, my Saviour, my King. 5. Ye palaces, sceptres, and crowns,

Your pride with disdain I survey;
Your pomps are but shadows and sounds,
And pass in a moment away.

6. The crown that my Saviour bestows,
Yon permanent sun shall outshine;
My joy everlastingly flows-

My God, my Redeemer is mine.

653. 8s.

FRANCIS.

1. INSPIRER and hearer of prayer, Thou Shepherd and Guardian of Thine, My all to Thy covenant care

I sleeping or waking resign.

2. If Thou art my shield and my sun, The night is no darkness to me; And, fast as my moments roll on,

They bring me but nearer to Thee. 3. Thy ministering spirits descend

To watch while Thy saints are asleep;
By day and by night they attend,
The heirs of salvation to keep.

4. Bright seraphs, dispatched from the throne,
Repair to their stations assigned;
And angels elect are sent down
To guard the elect of mankind.

5. Their worship no interval knows;
Their fervor is still on the wing;
And, while they protect my repose,
They chant to the praise of my King.

6. I, too, at the season ordained,

Their chorus for ever shall join,
And love and adore, without end,
Their faithful Creator and mine.

654. 8s.

1. THE winter is over and gone,

TOPLADY.

The thrush whistles sweet on the spray, The turtle breathes forth her soft moan, The lark mounts and warbles away.

2. Shall every creature around

Their voices in concert unite,
And I, the most favored, be found
In praising to take less delight?

3. Awake, then, my harp, and my lute!
Sweet organs your notes softly swell!
No longer my lips shall be mute,
The Saviour's high praises to tell.

4. His love in my heart shed abroad,
My graces shall bloom as the spring;
This temple, His spirit's abode;
My joy as my duty to sing.

HAWES