8 O chase this darkness from my mind, And raise my thoughts above, That I may full salvation find, My heart aw The grace Tet I to sina XCVI. Surely I am more brutish than any.-Proverbs xxx. 2. 1 BRING all the brutish and unwise, Who neither know nor love That God who made the earth and skies, Who reigns supreme above; And all hi 2 Set forth their base ingratitude I'd mingle with this hateful brood, 3 Alas! they never, never felt The power of quick'ning grace; 4 They ne'er enjoy'd a Saviour's love; 5 But I these mercies have enjoy'd Then how were all my powers employ'd 6 Jesus, I knew, endur'd my shame Who suffer'd there for me! Tes: I'll r And she I'll mourn If possi Ee me unde In merc My soul i Or I m Pity my My wo Andr My heart awhile with ardor burn'd The grace I could not hide, Yet I to sin again return'd, Now let me take the lowest place, Here is ingratitude indeed, 0 Yes: I'll repent till Jesus smile, XCVII. i Hide me under the Shadow of thy Wings.-Psalm xvii. &. JESUS, my Hiding-place thou art, My Rock, my Refuge, and my All; My mis'ries swell, O take my part; My soul is overwhelmed with grief, 3 Pity my weakness, O my God, 4 Leave not my drooping soul alone, 5 Hide me, I tremble at thy power, let thy Sp XCVIII. He will regard the Prayer of the Destitute.-Psalm cii. 17. 1 How suitable this word to me, A destitute, distressed worm! Lord, I will make my moan to thee; Do thou thy promise now perform. 2 Hear me, for I am destitute, 3 I can to none but thee complain, 4 Regard me in my low estate, 5 On thee alone for help I call, O let thy Spirit now descend, And work a stronger faith within; Be thou my Father and my Friend, And now eternal life bring in. XCIX. Let the Sighing of the Prisoners come before thee. To thee, my God, I make my moan, Lend thou a gracious ear: Let every sigh, let every groan, Before thy throne appear. For friends my sorrows swell too high, Helpless and destitute I lie, Expos'd to every snare. 3 Whilst thou, O Lord, my soul forsake, I must indulge my grief; O let my heart with sorrow break, So I may gain relief. 4 If here I must not see thy face, 5 Haste, Lord, my soul is all distress'd, O let thy bosom be my rest, Turn thee unto me, and have Mercy upon me, for I am desolate and afflicted.-Psalm xxv. 16, To God I'd 2 How great my weakness and my pain! How far from all relief! No friend to hear my soul complain, 3 Near to the gate of death I lie, 4 Doth God in wrath my soul abhor? Why am I thus distrest? For Jesus' sake, thy hand withdraw, 5 Turn unto me thy gracious eye, Before I faint, before I die God I'd And he allo never ga ad speak Welcome I meet hir He will not For tire wh for a supp stronger Lord, take soul wor |