5 And if this year I'm call'd to die, "Sacred Poetry," 2nd Series. H CHRISTIAN LIBERTY. E is the freeman whom the truth makes free, That hellish foes confederate for his harm, Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compared And by an emphasis of interest his, Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind, Cowper. I ON CHRISTIAN DEVOTEDNESS. WHO HO doubting asks, what shall I give? Whose heart can be, when Christ demands, So thankless and so cold. 2 O think of all His love to thee! 3 Think of the blessings He has bought, 4 And wilt thou then, withhold from Him, 5 And what a privilege to feel With all we have, with all we are: 6 Come, let us then, without reserve, Devote ourselves to God; He will accept the sacrifice, Cleans'd in a Saviour's blood. "Sacred Poetry, 2nd Series. "I HAVE CHOSEN THEE IN THE FURNACE OF AFFLICTION" I CHOSEN, art 'HOSEN, chosen, thou art chosen, Israel's God hath promised ever, 2 Well He knew thy every frailty, All thine inmost thoughts could see; 3 As a tender father chasteneth 4 Oft He smites His wayward children, 5 Every time He smites or wounds us, 'Tis a token of His love, Sent in mercy to assure us, We're remembered from above. 6 In affliction's furnace chosen, We an entrance blest shall gain, M. B. I W CHRIST'S INVITATION. ITH tearful eyes I look around; 2 It tells me of a place of rest; It tells me whither I may flee; Oh! to the weary, faint, opprest, How sweet the bidding, "Come to me." 3 When the poor heart with anguish learns 4 When against sin I strive in vain, 5 And cannot from its yoke get free, "Come, for all else must fail and die; 6 Saviour of mercy, and of love! In death my stay and refuge be; "Sacred Poetry," 2nd Series. M I CONSOLATION FOR THE DISTRESSED. WHE HEN the disciples saw the Lord, While round the angry billows roar'd, 2 But soon the gracious Jesus spoke, 3 O Lord! if round my sinking head The waves of sorrow roll; The words which then the Saviour said, Shall cheer my struggling soul. 4 I'll think from thee the trials came, Thy work of grace to aid, And still shall hear Thy voice exclaim, "Tis I; be not afraid." 5 Thy matchless power can every day But if Thou give or take away, 6 Then round me though the billows roll, I will not sink dismay'd; Thy voice shall speak within my soul, A. Opie |