Did ever trouble yet befall,
And God refufe to hear thee call?
And hath he not his promise paft,
That thou shalt overcome at laft ?

He, who has help'd thee hitherto,
Will help thee all thy journey thro';
And give thee daily cause to raise
New eben-ezers to his praise.

283. L. M., DODDRİDGE.

The tempted Believer encouraged.

TOW let the feeble all be strong,

Now the feeble his arm

And make Jehovah's arm their song
His fhield is spread o'er ev'ry faint;
And thus fupported, who shall faint

What tho' the hofts of hell engage
With mingled cruelty and rage!
A faithful God reftrains their hands,
And chains them down in iron bands.

Bound by his word, he will display
A ftrength proportion'd to our day
And, when united trials meet,
Will fhew a path of fafe retreat.

Thus far we prove that promife good,
Which Jefus ratified with blood:
Still is he gracions, wife, and juft;
And ftill in him let Ifrael truft.

284. S. M. TOPLADY.

Weak Believers encouraged.*

YOU
Y Down from the willows take;

YOUR harps, ye trembling faints,

Loud to the praise of Chrift our Lord
Bid ev'ry ftring awake.

Tho' in a foreign land,

We are not far from home; And nearer to our house above We ev'ry moment come.

His grace fhall to the end Stronger and brighter fhine; Nor prefent things nor things to come, Shall quench the fpark divine.

2

The time of love will come,' When we shall clearly fee Not only that he fhed his blood, But each fhall fay,

"for me."

Tarry his leifure then;

Wait, the appointed hour;

Wait, till the bridegroom of your fouls

Reveal his love with pow'r,

Bleft is the man, O God,

That ftays himself on thee!

Who waits for thy falvation, Lord,

Shall thy falvation fee.

* See alfo 110.

235. C. M. WATTS'S H.

The Compassion of Chrift to the Weak and Tempted.

WITH

ITH joy commemorate the grace,
Of your high Priest above;

His heart is made of tenderness,
His bowels melt with love.

Touch'd with a sympathy within,
He knows our feeble frame;
He knows what fore temptations mean,
For He has felt the fame.

But spotlefs, innocent, and pure,
The great Redeemer ftood,
While Satan's fiery darts he bore,
And did refift to blood,

He, in the days of feeble flesh,
Pour'd out his cries. and tears;
And, in his measure, feels afresh
What ev'ry member bears.

He'll never quench the fmoking flax,
But raise it to a flame:

The bruised reed he never breaks,
Nor fcorns the meaneft name.

Then let our humble faith addrefs
His mercy, and his pow'r ;
We shall obtain deliv'ring grace
In the diftreffing hour.

286. L M. MORTON'S Col.
A Prayer for Backfliders.

LORD, bring backfliders near thy throne,

And make thy loving-kindness known:
Thy faving ftrength, O God, restore,
And guard them, that they fall no more.

Tho' they have griev'd thy fpirit, Lord,
His help and comfort ftill afford;
And let, O let backfliders trace
The wonders of reftoring grace.

So fhall they own thy love is ftrọng;
Salvation fhall be all their fong;
And fouls fhall blefs, for grace reveal'd,
The Lord, who their backflidings heal'd,

287. Sevens.

The fraying Sheep prayed for.

ITY, Lord, a ftraying sheep,

PITY

Prone to wander from the fold;
Bring him back and fafely keep,
In thine arms the ftraggler hold:
Heal his wand'rings, Son of God,
Save the purchase of thy blood.

He thy pafture large and sweet

Leaves, to roam the wilderness;
There he may the lion meet.

Thousand foes his foul diftrefs;
Wilt thou lose him, Son of God,
Lose the purchase of thy blood?

See the poor backflider, fee
All defil'd his fleece and torn;
Loft, he knows not where to flee,
Wholly helpless, quite forlorn :
Heal his wand'rings, Son of God,
Save the purchase of thy blood.
Hark, he bleats, O hear his cry,
Hunger he begins to know ;
Ready to lie down and die,

1

See, he finks beneath his woe:
Wilt thou lose him, Son of God,
Lose the purchafe of thy blood?

Tho' he feels his wretched cafe,
Yet he knows not how to mend ;
He muft perish, if thy grace

Does not move thee to befriend : Heal his wand'rings, Son of God, Save the purchase of thy blood.

Skill'd to ftray, but ign'rant quite,

When once loft, to find his home; Wand'ring on by day and night, Farther, farther ftill he'd roam : Wilt thou lose him, Son of God, Lose the purchase of thy blood?

Lord, a wand'ring sheep restore
To thy paftures, ever fair;
Keep him, left he wander more,
Let thy love confine him there:
Heal his wand'rings, Son of God,
Save the purchase of thy blood.