PART III. Hail, holy, holy, holy Lord! For this alone on earth I wait, To glorify my God; And suffer, since thou will'st, the state And may I, in thy strength, fulfil My awful character; And prove thine acceptable will, And do thy pleasure here. The children to thyself restore, And rule my house with all my pow'r, Be this my hospitable care, The stranger to receive, The burden of thy Church to bear, My labour of unwearied love The servant of thy servants bless, WOND'RING, I ask, where is the breast, The eyes that upward look'd for rest, The recent horrors still appear; Whom late in all his pomp I saw. Torture and sin prepar'd his way, And pointed to the yawning grave; Darkness was spread o'er all the day, No hand was seen stretch'd forth to save. "Twas not the searching pain within, That fill'd the coward flesh with fear; Nor consciousuess of outward sin, Nor sense of dissolution near. In vain for hope he sought around, (The fruit of righteousness alone,) His soul afar from Christ was found, And started from a God unknown. His feeble flesh refus'd to bear Its strong redoubled agonies; I long have wearied out thy grace. 'Loos'd from my God, and far remov'd, In darkness willingly I stray'd, I sought thee, yet from thee I rov'd; For wide my wand'ring thoughts were spread ; Thy creatures more than thee I lov❜d. 'Corrupt my will, nor half subdu'd; Can I the purer presence bear! Unchang'd, unhallow'd, unrenew'd, Dare I before thy face appear? 'Father of mercies, hear my call, Ere yet arrive the fatal hour; Repair my loss, retrieve my fall, And raise me by thy quick'ning power. My nature re-exchange for thine, Be thou my Life, my Hope, my Gain; Clothe me with righteousness divine, And death shall shake his dart in vain. Could I the Saviour's voice but hear, And clasp him in my soul's embrace, Soon I'd dismiss my gloomy fear, And rest on his supporting grace. 'I nothing have wherein to trust, My glory swallow'd up in shame. 'Guilty I stand before thy face; Thy wrath on me might well abide; 'Tis just the sentence should take place; 'Tis just,-but, oh! thy Son has died! 'Jesus, the Lamb of God, hath bled, He bare our sins upon the tree; Beneath our curse he bow'd his head, 'Tis finish'd! He hath died for me. 'Lo! now before the throne he stands, And pours the all-prevailing prayer; Points to his side, and lifts his hands, And shows that I am graven there. 'He ever lives for me to pray; He prays that I with him may reign; Amen, to what my Lord doth say, Jesus, thou canst not pray in vain. A stranger long to thee and rest, O draw me, Saviour, after thee! 'Whither should now my soul aspire, Where thou, and only thou, art love; 'There let me rest, and sin no more; Come quickly, Lord, and end the strife; Hasten my last, my mortal hour, Swallow me up in endless life. 'Thankful, I take the cup from thee, Prepar'd and mingled by thy skill; Though bitter to the taste it be, It has a sov'reign power to heal. "When pains o'er my weak flesh prevail, With lamb-like patience arm my breast; If fear my wounded soul assail, 'Speak to the fears that in me rise, Say to my trembling heart, Be still; O guide my hope beyond the skies, And fix my feet on Zion's hill. ''Tis done; life's struggle now is o'er, The Saviour's kind, he takes me home! AND wilt thou yet be found, Jesus, thine aid afford, If still the same thou art; Thou seest my tortur'd breast, The strugglings of my will, The griefs that interrupt my rest, The agonies I feel. The daily death I prove, Saviour, to thee is known: 'Tis worse than death, my God to love, And not my God alone. Immoderate sorrow chide, Who only canst control; And calm my troubled soul. Oh! my much-injur❜d Lord, Restore mine inward peace; I know, thou canst pronounce the word, |