Hymn.

Peace after a Storm.

1 WHEN darkness long has veil'd my mind,
And smiling day once more appears;
Then, my REDEEMER, then I find
The folly of my doubts and fears.

2 Straight I upbraid my wand'ring heart,
And blush that I should ever be
Thus prone to act so base a part,

Or harbour one hard thought of Thee!

3 Oh! let me then at length be taught
What I am still so slow to learn;
That GOD is love, and changes not,
Nor knows the shadow of a turn.

4 Sweet truth, and easy to repeat!
But when my faith is sharply tried,
I find myself a learner yet,
Unskilful, weak, and apt to slide.

5 But, O my LORD, one look from Thee
Subdues the disobedient will;
Drives doubt and discontent away,
And Thy rebellious worm is still.

6 Thou art as ready to forgive,
As I am ready to repine;

Thou, therefore, all the praise receive;
Be shame and self-abhorrence mine.

Hymn.

Mourner's Harp tuned.

1 MY harp untun'd, and laid aside,
(To cheerful hours the harp belongs)
My cruel foes, insulting, cried,

66

Come, sing us one of Zion's songs."

2 Alas! when sinners, blindly bold,
At Zion scoff, and Zion's King;
When zeal declines, and love grows cold,
Is this a day for me to sing?

3 Time was, whene'er the saints I met, With joy and praise my bosom glow'd; But now, like Eli, sad I sit,

And tremble for the ark of GOD.

4 While thus to grief my soul gave way,
To see the work of GOD decline,
Methought I heard my SAVIOUR say,
"Dismiss thy fears-the ark is Mine.

5 Though for a time I hide My face,
Rely upon My love and pow'r;
Still wrestle at a throne of grace,
And wait for a reviving hour.

6 Take down thy long-neglected harp,

I've seen thy tears, and heard thy pray'rs;

The winter season has been sharp,

But spring shall all it's wastes repair."

Hymn.

Backslider's Return.

1 WEARY of wandering from my GOD, And now made willing to return, I hear, and bow me to the rod:

For Thee, not without hope, I mourn: I have an Advocate above,

A Friend before the throne of Love.

2 O JESUS, full of truth and grace,
More full of grace than I of sin ;
Yet once again I seek Thy face,
Open Thine arms, and take me in!
And freely my backslidings heal,
And love the faithless sinner still.

3 Thou know'st the way to bring me back,
My fallen spirit to restore;
O! for Thy truth and mercy's sake,
Forgive, and bid me sin no more:
The ruins of my soul repair,

And make my heart a house of prayer.

4 The stone to flesh again convert;
The veil of sin again remove;
Sprinkle Thy blood upon my heart,
And melt it by Thy dying love!
This rebel heart by love subdue,
And make it soft, and make it new.

5 Ah, give me, LORD, the tender heart, That trembles at th' approach of sin; A godly fear of sin impart;

Implant and root it deep within; That I may dread Thy gracious pow'r, And never dare t' offend Thee more.

Hymn.

Praying for Comfort.

1 O DISCLOSE Thy lovely face!
Quicken all my drooping powers!
Gasps my fainting soul for grace,
As a thirsty land for showers:
Haste, my LORD, no more delay!
Come, my SAVIOUR, come away!
2. Dark and cheerless is the morn,
Unaccompanied by Thee!
Joyless is the day's return,

Till Thy mercy's beams I see;
Till Thou inward light impart,
Glad my eyes, and warm my heart.

3 Visit, then, this soul of mine,

Pierce the gloom of sin and grief!
Fill me, Radiancy divine!

Scatter all my unbelief!

More and more Thyself display,
Shining to the perfect Day!

Hynin.

Praying for quickening Grace.

1 COME, HOLY SPIRIT, heavenly Dove! With all Thy quickening powers,

Kindle a flame of sacred love,

In these cold hearts of our's.

2 Look, how we grovel here below,
Fond of these trifling toys!
Our souls can neither fly nor go,
To reach eternal joys.

3 In vain we tune our formal songs,
In vain we strive to rise;

Hosannas languish on our tongues,
And our devotion dies.

4 Dear LORD! and shall we ever live
At this poor dying rate;
Our love so faint, so cold to Thee;
And Thine to us so great?

5 Come, HOLY SPIRIT, heavenly Dove, With all Thy quick'ning pow'rs, Come, shed abroad a SAVIOUR'S love, And that shall kindle our's.

Hymn.

Backslider's Return.

iO THOU, whose tender mercy hears Contrition's humble cry;

Whose hand, indulgent, wipes the tears
From sorrow's weeping eye;

2 See, low before Thy throne of grace,
A wretched wand'rer mourn!
Thyself hast bid me seek Thy face;
Thyself hast said, 'Return.'

3 And shall my guilty fears prevail
To drive me from Thy feet?
Thy word of promise cannot fail,
My tow'r of safe retreat.