288. C. M. NEWTON, altered.

The Chriftian's Privileges.

HWith whom he deigns to dwell!

APPY are they who know the Lord,

He cheers their fpirits by his word;
His arm fupports them well.
To fuch, in each diftreffing hour,
A God of grace is near ;
And as they plead his love and pow'r,
He ftands engag'd to hear.

He fav'd all thofe, in ancient days,
Who trufted in his name;
And faints can witness, to his praise,
His love is ftill the fame.

His prefence sweetens all their cares,
And makes their burdens light:
A word, from him, difpels their fears,
And gilds the gloom of night.
Lord, may thy people highly prize
The tokens of thy love;

'Till from the church below they rise,
To join the church above.

289. S. M.

HOSKINS.

The Chriftian's Defence.

How fecure are those,

That truft Jehovah's pow'r!

He guards them from their num'rous foes,

And keeps them ev'ry hour.

On high his children dwell,
Salvation's their defence;

Nor can the wrath of earth or hell
E'er pluck his people thence.
Lord, keep my helpless foul
From ev'ry foe and fear:
The tumults of my heart controul,
And bring falvation near.

Be thou my thield and tow'r,
My help when dangers rife :
Surround me with thy grace and pow'r,
Then take me to the fkies.

There may I ever praise

My guardian and my God:

And worship him thro' endless days,

Who wafh'd me in his blood.

290.

C. M.

WATTS, altered.

T

The Christian's Safety.

MMOVEABLE thy promise stands,
My Lord, my Hope, my Truft:

If I am found in Jesus' hands,
My foul can ne'er be loft.

His honor is engag'd to fave

The meaneft of his theep :

All that his heav'nly Father gave,
His hands fecurely keep.

Nor death nor hell fhall e'er remove

His fav rites from his breaft:

In the dear bofom of his love

They muft for ever reft.

I

Why do I then indulge my fears, 10 m/
Sufpicions, and complaints ?
Is he a God, and thall his grace

Grow weary of his faints? now bu i

Can a kind mother e'er forget
The fav'rite of her heart?

And, 'midft a thoufand tender thoughts,
Her infant have no part?

Yet faith the Lord, fhould nature change,"
And mothers monfters prove;

Sion ftill dwells

upon. the heart

Of everlasting Love.

291. L. M.. FAWCETT.

The Christian Remembering all the Way the Lord has led him.

HUS far my God has led me on,

THU

And made his truth and mercy known;

My hopes and fears alternate rise,
And comforts mingle with my fighs.

Thro' this wide wilderness I roam,
Far diftant from my blifsful home;
Lord, let thy presence be my ftay,'
And guard me in this dang'rous way.

Temptations ev'ry where annoy,
And fins and fnares my peace deftroy;
My earthly joys are from me torn,
And oft an abfent God I mourn.

My foul with various tempefts tofs'd, 77
Her hopes o'erturn'd, her projects erofs'd,
Sees ev'ry day new ftraights attend,
And wonders where the fcene will end.
Is this, dear Lord, that thorny road,
Which leads us to the mount of God?.
Are these the toils thy people know,
While in the wilderness below?
'Tis even so, thy faithful love
Doth all thy children's graces prove
'Tis thus our pride and self must fall,
That Jefus may be all in all.

292.

C. M.

DODDRIDGE.

Support in God's Covenant in the views of Death.

HAT mine! the cov'nant of his grace,

And ev'ry promise mine!

All fprung from everlafting love,

And feal'd by blood divine.

On my unworthy favor'd head,

Its bleffings all unite ;

Bleffings more num'rous than the stars,
More lafting and more bright.

Death, thou may'ft tear this rag
And fink my fainting head,
And lay my ruins in the grave,
Among my kindred dead:

of flesh,

But death and hell in vain fhall strive
To break that facred reft,i

Which God's expiring children feel,
While leaning on his breaft.

Th' enlarged foul thou canst not reach,
Nor rend from Chrift away;

Tho' o'er my mould'ring duft thou boast
The triumphs of a day.

The night is paft, my morning dawns;

My cov'nant God descends,

And wakes that duft to join my

In bliss that never ends.

foul

That cov'nant the last accents claims
Of this poor fault'ring tongue;
And that hall the first notes employ
Of my celeftial fong.

293.

C. M.

WATTS'S H.

I

Looking out for Chrift.

Love the windows of thy grace,

my Lord is feen

Thro' which my

And long to view my Savior's face,
Without a glafs between.LERDİ

The happy hour will quickly come,
That changes faith to fight:

I fhall behold my Lord at home,
In a diviner light.

Hafte, my Beloved, and remove

Thefe interpofing days;

Then fhall my paffions all be love,
And all my pow'rs be praise.