And thou tread'st the thorny 1 ONCE, O Lord, thy garden flou thee, road; rish'd, Every part look'd gay and rish'd, Happy seasons we have seen! But a drought has since succeeded, And a sad decline we see; Lord, thy help is greatly needed, Help can only come from thee. Some, in whom we once delighted, Weshall meet no more below; Some, alas! we fear are blighted, Scarce a single leaf they show. Dearest Savior, hasten hither, Thou canst make them bloom again; Oh, permit them not to wither Let not all our hopes be vain! 8. LIFE'S BILLOWS. 1 Toss'd upon life's raging billow, Sweet it is, O Lord, to know; Thou didst press a sailor's pillow, And canst feel a sailor's wo. Never slumbering, never sleeping, Though the night be dark and drear, Thou the faithful watch art keeping, "All, all's well," thy constant cheer. 2 And though loud the wind is howling, Fierce though flash the lightnings red; Darkly, though the storm-cloud's scowling O'er the sailor's anxious head; Thou canst calm the raging ocean, All its noise and tumult still, Hush the tempest's wild commotion, At the bidding of thy will. 3 Thus my heart the hope will cherish, While to thee I lift mine eye; Thou wilt save me ere I perish, Thou wilt hear the sailor's cry. And though mast and sail be riven, Life's short voyage will soon be o'er ; Safely moord in heaven's wide haven, Storm and tempest vex no more. 10. "TIS A POINT. 1 "Tis a point I long to know, Wisdom, if you still despise, Harder is it to be won. Oft it causes anxious thought: 2 Hasten, mercy to implore; Do I love the Lord, or no? Am I his or am I not? 2 If I love, why am I thus? Why this dull, this lifeless frame? Hardly, sure, can they be worse, Stay not for the morrow's Who have never heard his 3 Hasten, sinnner, to return; name. 3 Could my heart so hard remain, Prayer a task and burden prove Every trifle give me pain If I knew a Savior's love? 4 When I turn mine eyes within, All is dark, and vain, and wild; Fill'd with unbelief and sin Can I deem myself a child? 5 If I pray, or hear, or read, Sin is mix'd with all I do; You who love the Lord indeed, Tell me is it thus with you? 6 Yet I mourn my stubborn will, Find my sin a grief and thrall; Should I grieve for what I feel, If I did not love at all! 7 Lord decide the doubtful case! Thou who art thy people's Stay not for the morrow's |