Like Thee may I be mild,
And gentle as a child,
As docile too!
Ah, teach Thou me,
And let me be
Meek and obedient, like Thee.
GOD THE SON.
JESUS, my Lord, 'tis fweet to reft
Upon Thy tender, loving breast,
Where deep compaffions ever roll
Towards my helpless, weary foul.
Thy love, my Saviour, dries my tears,
Expels my griefs, and calms my fears;
Sheds light and gladness o'er my heart,
And bids each anxious thought depart.
Bleft foretaste this of joys to come
In Thy eternal, heavenly home;
Where I fhall fee Thy fmiling face,
And know Thy rich, unfathomed grace.
That grace fuftains my spirit now,
Though ftill a pilgrim here below;
That grace fuffices, comforts, guides,
Upholds, defends, preferves, provides.
Yes, Thou art with me, O my God,
To bear me on to Thy abode,
Where I fhall never cease to prove
Thy deep, divine, unfailing love.
Help me to praise Thee day by day,
Till earth's dark scenes are paffed away,
Till in Thine own unclouded light
Thy glory fatisfies my fight.
EHOLD! th' Ambaffador divine,
Defcending from above,
To publish to mankind the law
Of everlasting love!
On Him, in rich effufion poured,
The heavenly dew defcends;
And truth divine He fhall reveal
To earth's remoteft ends.
No trumpet found, at His approach,
Shall strike the wondering ears;
But ftill and gentle breathes the voice
In which the God appears.
By His kind hand the fhaken reed
Shall raife its falling frame,
The dying embers fhall revive,
And kindle to a flame.
The onward progress of His zeal
Shall never know decline;
Till foreign lands and diftant ifles
Receive the law divine.
GOD THE SON.
ESUS, thefe eyes have never feen
That radiant form of Thine,
The veil of fense hangs dark between
Thy bleffed face and mine.
I fee Thee not, I hear Thee not,
Yet art Thou oft with me,
And earth hath ne'er fo dear a spot,
As where I meet with Thee.
JESUS, Thy Blood and Righteousness,
My beauty are, my glorious drefs:
Midft flaming worlds, in these arrayed,
With joy fhall I lift up my head.
When from the duft of death I rife,
To take my manfion in the skies,
E'en then fhall this be all my plea,
"Jefus hath lived and died for me."
Bold fhall I ftand in that great day,
For who aught to my charge fhall lay?
Fully through Thee abfolved I am
From fin and fear, from guilt and shame.
Thus Abraham, the friend of God,
Thus all the armies bought with blood,
Saviour of finners Thee proclaim,-
Sinners of whom the chief I am.
This fpotlefs robe the fame appears
When ruined nature finks in years;
No age can change its glorious hue,
The robe of Chrift is ever new.
Oh, let the dead now hear Thy voice;
Bid, Lord, Thy banished ones rejoice;
Their beauty this, their glorious dress,
Jefus, the Lord our Righteousness.
¡AMB of God, who Thee receive,
Who in Thee defire to live,
Cry by night and day to Thee,
As Thou art, fo let us be.
Fix, O fix our wavering mind,
To Thy cross us firmly bind :
Gladly now we would be clean,
Cleanfe our hearts from every fin.
Duft and ashes though we be,
Full of guilt and mifery ;
Thine we are, Thou Chrift of God,
Take the purchase of Thy blood.
* This beautiful hymn is usually attributed in modern collections to Charles Wesley, but it was originally compofed by that faintly Moravian, Count Zinzendorf, on his voyage to the West Indies, A.D. 1736. Like the character of the author, it approaches more nearly thofe of ancient times than the usual compofitions of the prefent day.
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