LX. ABUSE OF THE GOSPEL. Too many, Lord, abuse thy grace, And while they boast they see thy face, Thy book displays a gracious light The pardon, such presume upon, Was it for this, ye lawless tribe, Ah, Lord, we know thy chosen few But these, the wretched husks they chew The liberty our hearts implore Is not to live in sin; But still to wait at wisdom's door, Till mercy calls us in. LXI. THE NARROW WAY. WHAT thousands never knew the road! What thousands hate it when 'tis known! None but the chosen tribes of God Will seek or choose it for their own. A thousand ways in ruin end, No more I ask, or hope to find, The joy that fades is not for me, I seek immortal joys above; There glory without end shall be The bright reward of faith and love. Cleave to the world, ye sordid worms, LXII. DEPENDENCE. To keep the lamp alive, 'Tis water makes the willow thrive, The Lord's unsparing hand Beware of Peter's word,* "I never will deny thee, Lord," *Matthew xxvi. 33. Man's wisdom is to seek His strength in God alone; Retreat beneath his wings, In Jesus is our store, Grace issues from his throne; Whoever says, "I want no more," Confesses he has none. LXIII. NOT OF WORKS. GRACE, triumphant in the throne, Come and bow beneath her sway, Cast your idol works away. Works of man, when made his plea, Fruits of pride (vain-glorious worm!) Are the best he can perform. Self, the god his soul adores, But when God the Judge shall come, To pronounce the final doom, Then for rocks and hills to hide Still the boasting heart replies, LXIV. PRAISE FOR FAITH. Of all the gifts thine hand bestows, Faith too, the blood-receiving grace, Till thou thy teaching power apply, Shut out the view of thee. Blind to the merits of thy Son, What misery we endure! Yet fly that hand from which alone We could expect a cure. We praise thee, and would praise thee more, To thee our all we owe; The precious Saviour, and the power That makes him precious too. LXV. GRACE AND PROVIDENCE. ALMIGHTY King! whose wondrous hand Thy providence supplies my food, My streams of outward comfort came Either his hand preserves from pain, From Satan's malice shields my breast, Forgive the song that falls so low LXVI. I WILL PRAISE THE LORD AT ALL TIMES. WINTER has a joy for me, While the Saviour's charms I read, Lowly, meek, from blemish free, Spring returns, and brings along |