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276. L. M.

W

FAWCETT.

Elijab fed by Ravens.

HEN God's own people ftand in need,
His goodness will provide fupplies;

Thus when Elijah faints for bread,
A raven to his fuccor flies.

At God's command, with speedy wings,
The hungry bird refigns its prey,
And to the rev'rend prophet brings
The needful portion day by day.
This method may be counted ftrange;
But happy was Elijah's lot;
For nature's courfe fhall fooner change,
Than God's dear children be forgot.
This wonder has been oft renew'd,
And faints by fweet experience find,
Their evils over-rul'd for good;
Their foes to friendly deeds inclin'd.

Who can diftruft that mighty hand,
Which rules with univerfal fway,
Which nature's laws can countermand,
Or feed us by a bird of prey?

277.

C. M.

STEELE.

The Chriftian in Affliction.

TH

HOU only centre of my reft, Look down with pitying eye, While with protracted pain oppreft I breathe the plantive figh.

Thy gracious prefence, O my God,
My ev'ry with contains;
With this, beneath affliction's load,
My heart no more complains.

This can my ev'ry care controul,
Gild each dark scene with light;
This is the funfhine of the foul,
Without it all is night.

My Lord, my Life, O cheer my heart
With thy reviving ray,

And bid these mournful fhades depart,
And bring the dawn of day!

O happy fcenes of pure delight!
Where thy full beams impart
Unclouded beauty to the fight,
And rapture to the heart.

Her part in those fair realms of blifs,
My fpirit longs to know;
My wishes terminate in this,

Nor can they reft below.

Lord, fhall the breathings of my heart Aspire in vain to thee?

Confirm my hope that where thou art,
I fhall for ever be.

Then fhall my chearful fpirit fing
The dark fome hours away,
And rife on faith's expanded wing
To everlafting day.

W

278. L. M. WATTS'S H.

The Perfecuted Chriftian.
The Triumph of Faith.
Chrift's,unchangeable Love.

THO fhall the Lord's elect condemn 2.
'Tis God that juftifies their fouls ;

And mercy, like a mighty ftream,

O'er all their fins divinely rolls.

Who fhall adjudge the faints to hell?
"Tis Chrift that fuffer'd in their stead ;
And the falvation to fulfil,

Behold him rifing from the dead!
He lives! he lives, and fits above
For ever interceeding there:
Who fhall divide us from his love?
Or what fhall tempt us to defpair?
Shall perfecution, or distress,

Famine, or fword, or nakedness?
He that hath lov'd us bears us thro',
And makes us more than conqu'rors too.
Faith hath an overcoming pow'r,

It triumphs in the dying hour:
Chrift is our life, our joy, our hope ;
Nor can we fink with fuch a prop.

Not all that men on earth can do,
Nor pow'rs on high, nor pow'rs below,

Shall caufe his mercy to remove,

From the dear objects of his love.

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WHAT

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tender pity, love and care, For fuff'ring faints doth Jesus bear; While they his glorious name confefs, 'Midft perfecution and diftrefs.

Tho' by th' oppreffor's rod they smart,
See the Redeemer ftill impart

His confolations all divine,

With chearful beams their faces fhine.
Thus Stephen the firft, martyr dies,
To truth a joyful facrifice;
To vindicate the caufe of God,
He feals the gospel with his blood.
Lo! on his countenance appears
Such radiance as an angel wears;
Reflected rays of glory bright,
Meet the spectator's wond'ring fight.
Not death, with all its dread array,
His heav'n-born foul could e'er dismay;
Jefus, the faint expiring cheers,
And to his raptur'd fight appears.

"Behold (he cries) heav'n's gates expand,
Exalted fee at God's right hand,
The Son of man with glory crown'd,
And the bright Seraphim around."

Thus would the view of Jefus' face,
Each fear difarm, each terror chase ;
Thus bleft with joy, we yield our breath
Triumphing o'er the monfter, death.
Q

66

280. C. M. WATTS'S H.

The Martyrs glorified.

HESE glorious minds, how bright they thine !

TH

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"Whence all their white array ? "How came they to the happy feats "Of everlasting day?".

From tort'ring pains to endless joys
On fiery wheels they rode,

And strangely wash'd their raiment white
In Jefus' dying blood.

Now they approach a spotless God,
And bow before his throne;
Their warbling harps and facred fongs
Adore the Holy One.

The unveil'd glories of his face
Amongst his faints refide,
While the rich treafures of his grace
Sees all their wants fupply'd.

Tormenting thirst shall leave their fouls,

And hunger flee as faft;

The fruit of life's immortal tree

Shall be their sweet repaft.

The Lamb fhall lead his heav'nly flock,,

Where living fountains,rife,

And love divine fhall wipe away
The forrows of their eyes.

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