O may that Spirit teach,
And make my heart receive,
Those truths which all Thy servants preach,
And all Thy saints believe.
Then shall I praise the Lord
In a more cheerful strain,
That I was taught to read His Word,
And have not learned in vain.
Rev. Isaac Watts, D.D., 1715 (died 1748).
ESHER, 105. ST. GEORGE, 113.
76 FATHER of mercies, in Thy word
What endless glory shines!
For ever be Thy name adored,
For these celestial lines.
Here the Redeemer's welcome voice
Spreads heavenly peace around;
And life and everlasting joys
Attend the blissful sound.
O may these heavenly pages be
My ever dear delight!
And still new beauties may I see,
And still increasing light!
Divine Instructor, gracious Lord,
Be Thou for ever near;
Teach me to love Thy sacred word,
And view my Saviour there.
Miss Anne Steele, 1760 (died 1778).
C.M. ST. ANN, 111. ST. STEPHEN, 117.
77 HOW shall the young secure their hearts
And guard their lives from sin ?
Thy word the choicest rules imparts
To keep the conscience clean.
When once it enters to the mind,
It spreads such light abroad,
The meanest souls instruction find,
And raise their thoughts to God.
'Tis like the sun, a heavenly light,
That guides us all the day;
And through the dangers of the night,
A lamp to lead our way.
Thy precepts make me truly wise;
I hate the sinner's road;
I hate mine own vain thoughts that rise,
But love Thy law, my God.
Thy word is everlasting truth;
How pure is every page !
That holy book shall guide our youth,
And well support our age.
Rev. Isaac Watts, D.D., 1719 (died 1748).
ST. ANN, 111. ST. STEPHEN, 117.
78 OH that the Lord would guide my ways,
To keep His statutes still;
Oh that my God would grant me grace,
To know and do His will!
O send Thy Spirit down, to write
Thy law upon my heart;
Nor let my tongue indulge deceit,
Nor act the liar's part.
Order my footsteps by Thy word,
And make my heart sincere;
Let sin have no dominion, Lord,
But keep my conscience clear.
Make me to walk in Thy commands,
'Tis a delightful road;
Nor let my head, or heart, or hands,
Offend against my God.
Rev. Isaac Watts, D.D., 1719 (died 1748).
LONDON, 109. W. H. COOKE'S CHANT, 201.
79 GREAT God, with wonder and with
Thy works I look; [praise
But still Thy wisdom, power, and grace
Shine brightest in Thy Book.
The stars that in their courses roll
Have much instruction given :
But Thy good word informs my soul
How I may get to heaven.
The fields provide me food, and show
The goodness of the Lord;
But fruits of life and glory grow
In Thy most holy word.
Here are my choicest treasures hid,
Here my best comfort lies;
Here my desires are satisfied,
And hence my hopes arise.
Lord, make me understand Thy law,
Show what my faults have been;
And from Thy gospel let me draw
Pardon for all my sin.
Here would I learn how Christ has died,
To save my soul from hell;
Not all the books on earth beside
Such heavenly wonders tell.
Then let me love the Bible more,
And take a fresh delight,
By day to read these wonders o'er,
And meditate by night.
Rev. Isaac Watts, D.D., 1715 (died 1748).
ESHER, 105. W. H. COOKE'S CHANT, 201.
80 THY word is like a garden, Lord,
With flowers bright and fair;
And every one who seeks, may pluck
A lovely nosegay there.
Thy word is like a deep, deep mine,
And jewels rich and rare
Are hidden in its mighty depths,
For every searcher there.
Thy word is like the starry host;
A thousand rays of light
Are seen, to guide the traveller
And make his pathway bright.
Thy word is like a glorious choir,
And loud its anthems ring;
Though many tongues and parts unite,
It is one song they sing.
Thy word is like an armoury,
Where soldiers may repair;
And find, for life's long battle-day,
All needful weapons there.
O, may I love Thy precious word,
May I explore the mine;
May I its fragrant flowers glean,
May light upon me shine!
O, may I find my armour there;—
Thy word my trusty sword,
I'll learn to fight with every foe
The battle of the Lord!
L.M. ANGELS' HYMN, 156. EIGNBROOK, 159.
HERE is a lamp whose steady light
Guides the poor traveller in the night;
'Tis God's own word! Its beaming ray
Can turn a midnight into day.
There is a storehouse of rich fare,
Supplied with plenty and to spare:-
"Tis God's own word! It spreads a feast
For every hungering, thirsting guest.
There is a chart whose tracings show
The onward course when tempests
blow:-
[found
'Tis God's own word! There, there is
Direction for the homeward bound.
There is a tree whose leaves impart
Health to the burdened, contrite heart:-
'Tis God's own word! It cures of sin,
And makes the guilty conscience clean.
Give me this lamp to light my road;
This storehouse for my daily food;
Give me this chart for life's rough sea;
These healing leaves, this heavenly tree.
MONTGOMERY, 189. REPOSE, 192.
THE Bible! the Bible! more precious than gold,
The hopes and the glories its pages un
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