2 My waking eyes prevent the day, My soul with longing melts away 3 No treasures so enrich the mind; 4 When nature sinks and spirits droop, Thy promises of grace Are pillars to support my hope, 246 1 TO keep the lamp alive, With oil we fill the bowl; "Tis water makes the willow thrive, 2 The Lord's unsparing hand Supplies the living stream; It is not at our own command, 3 Man's wisdom is to seek His strength in God alone; 4 Retreat beneath his wings, And in his grace confide; This more exalts the King of kings, 5 In Jesus is our store; Grace issues from his throne; 301 C. M. COWPER. Human Frailty. 1 WEAK and irresolute is man; Woven with pains into his plan, 2 Some foe to his upright intent Virtue engages his assent, But pleasure wins his heart. 3 Bound on a voyage of awful length, 4 But oars alone can ne'er prevail The breath of heaven must swell the sail, 302 C. M. SCOTCH PARAPHRASES. God the Source of Strength. Is. xl. 28–31. 1 SUPREME in wisdom, as in power, The Rock of ages stands; Though him thou canst not see, nor trace The working of his hands. 2 He gives the conquest to the weak, 3 Mere human power shall fast decay, But they who wait upon the Lord, 4 They with unwearied feet shall tread With growing ardor onward move, 5 On eagles' wings they mount, they soar; 303 C. M. God the Salvation of his People. DODDRIDGE. 1 HOW long shall dreams of creature-bliss Our flattering hopes employ, And mock our fond, deluded eyes 2 Why from the mountains and the hills. While our eternal Rock's forsook, 3 The living spring neglected flows Yet we, with anxious, fruitless toil, 4 These fatal errors, gracious God, To thee our roving eyes direct, 304 C. M. DODDRIDGE. God supplying the Wants of his People. 1 MY God, how cheerful is the sound! Well may that heart with pleasure bound, 2 What want shall not our God supply What streams of mercy from on high 3 From Christ, the ever-living Spring, 4 Now to our Father and our God Through all the realms of man's abode, 305 L. M. RIPPON'S COL: Divine Influences compared to Rain. 1 AS showers on meadows newly mown, Our God shall send his Spirit down; Eternal Source of grace divine, What soul-refreshing drops are thine! |