Yet thou wilt safely keep, And guide me with thine eye: My anchor, hope, shall firm abide, And I each boist'rous storm outride. 4 By faith I see the land, 5 Whene'er becalm'd I lie, And storms and winds subside; And keep me near thy side: For more the treach'rous calm I dread, 6 Come, heav'nly Wind, and blow To waft me from below, To heav'n my destin'd place: Then in full sail, my port I'll find, And leave the world, and sin behind. 1 HYMN 401. Os. Lambeth, Uxbridge. AH! why this disconsolate frame? My Jesus is ever the same, A Sun in the gloomiest day : Tho' molten awhile in the fire, "Tis only the gold to refine ; And be it my simple desire Tho' suffering, not to repine. 2 What can be the pleasures to me, Which earth in its fulness can boast? Delusive, its vanities flee, A flash of enjoyment at most: 3 Then let the rude tempest assail, HYMN 402. C. M. 'TIS NEWTON. Colchester, St. Ann's, Stade. The storm hushed. IS past-the dreadful stormy night And now I see returning light, The Lord, my Sun appears. 2 Oh, wond'rous change! but just before, Despair beset me round; I heard the lion's horrid roar, s Before corruption, guilt, and fear, 4 But Jesus pity'd my distress; 5 Dear Lord, since thou hast broke my bands And set the captive free, i I would devote my tongue, my hands, My heart, my all to thee. HYMN 403. c. M. MADAN'S COL. Stade, Braintree, Abridge. OUR little bark on boist'rous seas, By cruel tempest tost, Without one cheerful beam of hope, 2 We to the Loid, in humble prayer, 3 The stormy winds did cease to blow, 4 Oh! may our grateful, trembling hearts Sweet hallelujahs sing, To him who hath our lives preserv'd, 5 Let us proclaim to all the world, With heart and voice, again, 1 And tell the wonders he hath done HYMN 404. C. P. M. Ganges, Penitent, Chapel. BROWN. True convert. 2 Cor. v. 17. THEN with my mind devoutly press'd, W Dear Saviour, my revolving breast Would past offences trace; 2 This tongue with blasphemies defil'd, Who would believe such lips could praise, 3 These eyes that once abus'd the light, Now lift to thee their wat'ry sight, And weep a silent flood; These hands are rais'd in ceaseless pray'r, 4 These ears, that once could entertain The midnight oath, the festive strain, Around the sinful board; Now deaf to all th' enchanting noise, 5 Thus art thou serv'd in ev'ry part; Go on, bless'd Lord, to cleanse my heart, That drossy thing refine; That grace may nature's pow'rs control, And a new creature, body, soul, Be all and wholly thine. HYMN 405. C. P. M. NEWTON. Chilton, Kew, Aithlone, Ganges. F God had bid his thunders roll, And lightnings flash to blast my soul, I still had stubborn been: But mercy has my heart subdu'd— 2 Now, Lord, I would be thine alone; 3 My will conform'd to thine would move; My hands, my eyes, my ears, my tongue, 4 And can I be the very same, Surely each one, who hears my case, Will praise thee, and confess thy grace Invincible indeed! |