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Nor may the world, by smiles or frowns,
Our faith and hope remove.

But may our hearts, like fertile soil,
Receive the heavenly word,

So shall our fair and ripen'd fruits

Their hundred-fold afford.

"Lord! if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean."

Mat. viii. 2.

LORD, whose love in power excelling,

Wash'd the leper's stain away,
Jesus! from thy heavenly dwelling,
Hear me, help me, when I pray.

From the stain of vice and folly,
From unguarded passion's age,
Evil thoughts and hopes unholy,
Heedless youth and selfish age,-

From desires, whose deep pollutions
Adam's primal taint disclose,
From the tempter's dark intrusions,
Restless doubt and blind repose,-

From the heart's ill-chosen treasure,
From all care that's base and mean,
From the world, its pomp and pleasure,
Jesus! Master, make me clean.

"In thy presence is fulness of joy."

Ps. xvi. 11.

WHAT tongue can tell, what fancy paint,
The joys that fill th' enraptur'd saint,
When mix'd with heav'n's triumphant throng,
He shares their bliss and swells their song.

He feels no sorrow, knows no care,

For God himself is present there;
He sees his Saviour as he is,

And dwells in heav'n with him and his.

No darkness now obscures his mind,
The darkness all is left behind;
And objects lately half conceal'd,
In full resplendence stand reveal'd.
His love, so cold, so mix'd before,
In heav'n is cold and mix'd no more;
It gains the region whence it came,
And lives a pure ethereal flame.

Oh may I reach that blest abode,
Where saints obtain their rest in God;
For this let ev'ry conflict here

As nothing in my sight appear.

FORSAKING ALL FOR CHRIST.

JESUS! I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow thee;
Naked, poor, despis'd, forsaken,
Thou from hence my all shall be.
Perish ev'ry fond ambition,

All I've sought or hop'd or known;
Yet how rich is my condition!-
God and heaven are still my own.

Let the world despise and leave me;
They have left my Saviour too;
Human hearts and looks deceive me,
Thou art not like them untrue:
And whilst thou shalt smile upon me,
God of wisdom, love, and might,
Foes may hate and friends may scorn me,
Shew thy face and all is bright.

Go, then, earthly fame and treasure,
Come disaster, scorn and pain;
In thy service pain is pleasure,
With thy favor loss is gain.
I have called thee Abba, Father,
I have set my heart on thee,
Storms may howl and clouds may gather,
All must work for good to me.

Man may trouble and distress me,
"Twill but drive me to thy breast;
Life with trials hard may press me,

Heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh! 'tis not in grief to harm me,
While thy love is left to me;
Oh! 't were not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmix'd with thee.

Soul, then, know thy full salvation,
Rise o'er sin and fear and care;

Joy to find in every station

Something still to do or bear; Think what Spirit dwells within thee,

Think what Father's smiles are thine, Think that Jesus died to win thee;

Child of heaven! canst thou repine?

Haste thee on from grace to glory,
Arm'd by faith and wing'd by prayer,
Heaven's eternal day's before thee,

God's own hand shall guide thee there;
Soon shall close thy earthly mission,
Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days,
Hope shall change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.

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F. P. EVANS, PRINTER, CHESTER.

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