Shine upon thy work of grace,
If it be indeed begun.

9 Let me love thee more and more,

If I love at all I pray;

If I have not lov'd before,

Help me to begin to day.

NEWTON.

HYMN 44. C. M. Downs.

Thou knowest that I love thee. Jn. xxi. 16.

3 Is not thy name melodious still

To mine attentive ear?

Doth not each pulse with pleasure bound
My Saviour's voice to hear?

4 Hast thou a lamb in all thy flock

I would disdain to feed?

Hast thou a foe before whose face
I fear thy cause to plead?

5 Would not my heart pour forth its blood
In honor of thy name?

And challenge the cold hand of Death
To damp the immortal flame?

6 Thou know'st I love thee, O my Lord!

But, yet I long to soar

Far from the sphere of mortal joys,

That I may love thee more.

HYMN 45. 8s. and 7s. Sicily.

Declensions Lamented.

1 Once, O Lord! thy garden flourish'd,
Ev'ry part look'd gay and green;
Then thy word our spirits nourish'd,
Happy seasons we have seen!

2 But a drought has since succeeded,
And a sad decline we see;
Lord! thy help is greatly needed,
Help can only come from thee.

3 Some, in whom we once delighted,
We shall meet no more below;
Some, alas! we fear are blighted,—
Scarce a single leaf they show.

4 Dearest Saviour' hasten hither, Thou canst make them bloom again;

Oh permit them not to wither,

Let not all our hopes be vain.

NEWTON.

HYMN 46. 7s. Norwich.

1 Son of God, thy blessing grant,
Still supply my every want;
Tree of life, thine influence shed,
With thy fruit my spirit feed.

2 Tend'rest one, alas! am I;
Without thee I droop and die;
Weaker than a bruised reed,
Help I every moment need.

3 All my hopes on thee depend; Love me, save me, to the end! Give me thy supporting grace,

Take the everlasting praise. H. F. BURDER'S COL.

HYMN 47. ` L. M. Old Hundred.

The Star of Bethlehem.

1 When marshall'd on the nightly plain, The glitt'ring host bestud the sky; One star alone, of all the train,

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

2 Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,
From ev'ry host from ev'ry gem;
But one alone the Saviour speaks,
It is the Star of Bethlehem.

3 Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud,-the night was dark,
The ocean yawn'd,—and rudely blow'd
The wind that toss'd my found'ring bark.

4 Deep horror then my vitals froze, Death-struck, I ceas'd the tide to stem; When suddenly a star arose,

It was, the Star of Bethlehem.

5 It was my guide, my light, my all,
It bade my dark forebodings cease;
And through the storm and dangers thrall,
It led me to the port of peace.

6 Now safely moor'd-my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,
Forever, and forever more,

The Star!-The Star of Bethlehem!

H. K. WHITE.

HYMN 48. L. M. Armley.

Christ the Physician of Souls. Jer. viii. 22.

1 Deep are the wounds which sin has made;
Where shall the sinner find a cure?
In vain, alas! is nature's aid,
The work exceeds her utmost pow'r.

2 Sin like a raging fever reigns,
With fatal strength in every part,
The dire contagion fills the veins,
And spreads its poison to the heart.

3 But can no sovereign balm be found,
And is no kind physician nigh,
To ease the pain and heal the wound,
Ere life and hope forever fly?

4 Yes, there's a great Physician near,
Look up, my fainting soul! and live;
See in his heavenly smiles appear
Such help as nature cannot give!

5 See, in the Saviour's dying blood,
Life, health, and bliss, abundant flow,
'Tis only that dear sacred flood
Can ease thy pain, and heal thy wo.

STEELE.

HYMN 49. 7s. Pleyel's Hymn.

Christ the Rock of Ages.

1 Rock of ages! cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From thy side, a healing flood,

Be of fear and sin the cure;
Save from wrath and make me pure.

2 Should my tears forever flow,—
Should my zeal no languor know,
This for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone;
In my hand no price I bring,
Simply to thy cross I cling.

3 While I draw this fleeting breath
When mine eyelids close in death,
When I rise to worlds unknown,
And behold thee on thy throne,
Rock of ages! cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in thee. Montgomery's Sel.

HYMN 50. C. M. Downs.

Fountain Opened. Zech. xiii. 1.

1 There is a fountain fill'd with blood,
Drawn from Emmanuel's veins:
And sinners, plung'd beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.

2 The dying thief rejoic'd to see
That fountain in his day;
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away.

3 Thou dying Lamb! thy precious blood
Shall never lose its pow'r

Till all the ransom'd church of God
Are saved to sin no more.

4 E'er since by faith, I saw the stream,
Thy flowing wounds supply,

Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.