4 Then, on that more than regal lead, T Unseen its glory-crown, The broken alabaster shed

Its costly incense down.

5 More precious than her Indian nard,
The homage it expressed,-
The humblest, holiest regard,
Her contrite tears confessed.

6 So would I bow, ascended King!
And Thy forgiveness move.
No worthy tribute can I bring:
Thou wilt the Giver prove.

7 So at Thy feet my faith shall live,
By love adoring led;

My heart its broken marble give,
But Thou the perfume shed:

579. "If I may but touch his garment, I shall be whole.”

Matt. ix. 21. P. M.

1 NOT Thy garment's hem alone,
My trembling faith would hold,
Though Divine compassion shone
Beneath its sacred fold.

Thou didst own her mute appeal,
Who besought Thy power to heal.

2 Earthly robes which Thou didst wear
Thy glories to enshroud,

Could remedial virtue bear

To one amid the crowd.

Now Thou art enthroned to save.

ils el

More than mortal health I crave, T

3 That bright raiment I would seek,
Dyed in the' atoning flood,
Which can peace and pardon speak,
Thy vesture dipped in blood.
Here my hope its refuge holds:
Hide me in its sheltering folds.
4 Mediating Priest above!
My languid spirit faints
For that suit of joy and love,

The righteousness of saints.
Great Redeemer! clothe me in
Robes which Thou hast died to win.

CONFLICT.

580. "Lord, save us: we perish." Matt. viii. 25.

L. M.

1 THE billows swell, the winds are high; Clouds overcast my wintry sky.

Out of the depths to Thee I call:

My fears are great; my strength is small. 2 O Lord! the pilot's part perform,

And guide and guard me thro' the storm..
Defend me from each threatening ill :
Control the waves; say, "Peace, be still."

3 Amidst the roaring of the sea,

My soul still hangs her hope on Thee:
Thy constant love, Thy faithful care,
Is all that saves me from despair.

4 Dangers of every shape and name
Attend the followers of the Lamb,
Who leave the world's deceitful shore,
And leave it to return no more.

5 Though tempest-tossed, and half a wreck,
My Saviour through the floods I seek :
Let neither winds nor stormy main
Force back my shattered bark again.

581. "O that I knew where I might find him!”

Job xxiii. 3. C. M.

1 OH that I knew the secret place
Where I might find my God!
I'd spread my wants before His face,
And pour my woes abroad.

2 I'd tell Him how my sins arise,
What sorrows I sustain;

How grace decays, and comfort dies,
And leaves my heart in pain.

3 He knows what arguments I'd take,
To wrestle with my God:

I'd plead for His own mercy's sake,
And for my Saviour's blood.

4 My God will pity my complaints,
And heal my broken bones.
He takes the meaning of His saints,
The language of their groans.

5 Arise, my soul! from deep distress,
And banish every fear:

He calls thee to His throne of grace,
To spread thy sorrows there.l

582.

"Will he plead against me with his great power? No; but he would put strength in me." Job xxiii. 6. C. M.

1 OH that I knew where I might find T&
My righteous Judge's seat,
To pour out all my troubled mind
In prayer before His feet!

2 Nor with the thunder of Thy power
Wouldst thou against me plead.
No, Thy good Spirit, in that hour,
For me would intercede.

3 For me, Thy Son Himself would pray,
Thy well-beloved Son.
Father! Thou couldst not turn away
From Thine Anointed One.

4 Thine own unutterable grace,
Thy love,-Thy love to me,-
Constrain me thus to seek Thy face,
And cast my cares on Thee.

5 Hear then the voice of my desire;
My griefs, my fears behold.
Search me, and try me as with fire,
And bring me forth like gold.

6 Lo, Thou hast troubled my repose;
Thy chastisements I feel:

Thine hand hath touch'd my heart;-it glows,

It melts, impress Thy seal.

7 Stamp Thine own image on my soul

Lift from the dust mine head.

Lord! Thou hast wounded,- make me whole;

Hast slain,-now raise the dead.

583. "More than they that watch for the morning."

Psalm cxxx. 6. S. M.

1 MY former hopes are fled; My terror now begins.

2

3

4

5

I feel, alas! that I am dead
In trespasses and sins.

Ah, whither shall I fly?

I hear the thunder roar :

The law proclaims destruction nigh,
And vengeance at the door.

When I review my ways,
I dread impending doom.

But sure, a friendly whisper says,
"Flee from the wrath to come."

I see, or think I see,

A glimmering from afar;

A beam of day that shines for me,
To save me from despair.

Forerunner of the sun,

It marks the pilgrim's way.
I'll gaze upon it while I run,
And watch the rising day.