2 No healing balm on earth like this
Can cheer the contrite heart;
No flatt'ring dreams of earthly bliss
Such pure delight impart.
3 Thou still art merciful and kind,
Thy mercy, Lord, reveal ;
The broken heart 'tis thou canst bind,
The wounded spirit heal.
4 Let thy bright presence, Lord, restore
Peace to my anxious breast:
Conduct me in the path that leads
To everlasting rest.
1 The trav'ller lost in night,
Breathes many a longing sigh,
And marks the welcome dawn of light,
With rapture in his eye.
2 Thus sweet, the dawn of day,
Which weary sinners find,
When mercy with reviving ray
Beams o'er the fainting mind.
3 To slaves oppress'd with chains,
How kind, how dear the friend,
Whose gen'rous hand relieves their pains,
And bids their sorrows end!
4 Thus dear that Friend divine,
Who rescues captive souls;
Unbinds the galling chains of sin,
And all its power controls.
5 My God! to gospel light
My dawn of hope I owe;
Once, wand'ring in the shades of night,
And sunk in hopeless woe.
6 Thy hand redeem'd the slave,
And set the pris'ner free;
Be all I am, and all I have,
Devoted, Lord! to thee!
1 Why do we waste on trifling cares,
The lives divine compassion spares,
While, in the various range of thought,
The one thing needful is forgot?
2 Our Father calls us from above,
Our Saviour pleads his dying love,
Awakened conscience gives us pain;
Shall all these pleas unite in vain?
3 Not so, our closing eyes will view
The objects which we now pursue ;
-Not so eternity appear,
When death's decisive hour is near.
4 Almighty God! thy power impart
And fix conviction on the heart,
Thy power unveils the blindest eyes,
And makes the proudest scorner wise.
1 How happy is he born and taught,
Who serveth not another's will;
Whose armour is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill!
2 Whose passions not his masters are,
Whose soul is still prepar'd for death,
Untied to this vain world by care
Of public fame, or private breath;
3 Who hath his life from rumours freed,
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatt'rers feed,
Nor ruin make oppressors great;
4 Who God doth late and early pray
More of his grace than gifts to lend;
Whose heart, as open as the day,
Fears not to call his God his friend.
5 This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands,
He, having nothing, yet hath all.
1 Awake, our souls! away, our fears!
Let every trembling thought begone;
Awake, and run the heavenly race,
And put a cheerful courage on!
2 True 'tis a strait and thorny road,
And mortal spirits tire and faint;
If they forget the mighty God,
Who feeds the strength of every saint.
3 The mighty God, whose powerful hand
Has matchless works of wonder done;
And shall endure, whilst endless years
Their everlasting circles run.
4 From him, the everflowing spring,
Our souls shall drink a rich supply;
Whilst those who trust their native strength
Shall melt away, and droop and die.
5 Swift as an eagle cuts the air,
We'll mount aloft to thine abode ;
On wings of love our souls will fly,
Nor tire amidst the heavenly road.
HYMN CCXX. C.M.
Zeal and vigour in the christian race.
1 Awake, my soul! stretch every nerve, And press with vigour on;
A heavenly race demands thy zeal,
And an immortal crown.
2 A cloud of witnesses around
Hold thee in full survey;
Forget the steps already trod,
And onward urge thy way.
3 'Tis God's all-animating voice
That calls thee from on high;
"Tis his own hand presents the prize
To thine aspiring eye;
4 That prize, with peerless glories bright,
Which shall new lustre boast,
When victors' wreaths and monarchs'
Shall blend in common dust.
5 My soul! with all thy waken'd powers,
Survey the immortal prize;
Nor let the glitt'ring toys of earth,
Allure thy wandering eyes.
Temptations without and within.
1 Awake, my soul! lift up thine eyes,
See how thy foes against thee rise,
In long array, a num'rous host;
Awake, my soul, or thou art lost!
2 See how rebellious passions rage,
And fierce desires and lusts engage ;
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