Who through this weary pilgrimage
Hast all our fathers led:
2 To thee our humble vows we raise,
To thee address our prayer,
And in thy kind and faithful breast
Deposit all our care.
3 If thou, through each perplexing path, Wilt be our constant guide;
If thou wilt daily bread supply,
And raiment wilt provide;
4 If thou wilt spread thy shield around,
Till these our wand'rings cease,
And at our Father's lov'd abode
Our souls arrive in peace;
5 To thee, as to our Cov'nant-God,
We our whole selves resign;
And count, that not the tenth alone,
But all we have, is thine.
HYMN CIII. Levit. xxv. 9-13. (P. M. 148th.)
BLOW ye the trumpet, blow
The gladly-solemn sound!
Let all the nations know
To earth's remotest bound:
The year of Jubilee is come;
Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home.
Exalt the Lamb of God,
The sin-atoning Lamb;
Redemption by his blood
Through all the lands proclaim:
The year of Jubilee is come;
Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home.
Ye slaves of sin and hell,
Your liberty receive;
And safe in Jesus dwell,
And blest in Jesus live:
The year of Jubilee is come;
Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home.
The gospel-trumpet hear,
The news of pard'ning grace:
Ye happy souls, draw near;
Behold your Saviour's face :
The year of Jubilee is come;
Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home.
HYMN CIV. Deut. xI. 8-14. (P. M.)
1 COME, Lord! and help us to rejoice
In hope that we shall hear thy voice,
And all thy goodness prove;
Thy people's rest, thy saints' delight,
The length and breadth, the depth and
Of thy redeeming love. [height,
2 Rejoicing now in earnest hope,
We stand, and from the mountain-top
See all the land below :
Rivers of milk and honey rise,
And all the fruits of paradise
In endless plenty grow:
3 A land of corn, and wine, and oil,
Favour'd with God's peculiar smile,
With every blessing blest:
There dwells the Lord our Righteousness,
And keeps his own in perfect peace
And everlasting rest.
4 Almighty Joshua! bring us in ;
Display thy grace, forgive our sin,
Our unbelief remove:
The heav'nly Canaan, Lord, divide;
And oh, with all the sanctified,
Give us a lot of love!
HYMN CV. 1 Kings III. 5. (s. M.)
BEHOLD the throne of grace!
The promise calls me near;
There Jesus shews a smiling face,
And waits to answer prayer.
2 That rich atoning blood,
Which sprinkled round I see,
Provides for those who come to God
An all-prevailing plea.
Beyond our utmost wants
His love and power can bless:
To praying souls he always grants
More than they can express.
Thine image, Lord, bestow,
Thy presence and thy love;
I ask to serve thee here below,
And reign with thee above.
Teach me to live by faith,
Conform my will to thine:
Let me victorious be in death,
And then in glory shine.
HYMN CVI. 1 Kings III. 7-9. (L. M.) 1 LORD, I accept thine offer'd grace, I come to seek my Father's face; Nor will he turn his ear away,
Who taught my heart and lips to pray. 2 One thing I ask; and wilt thou hear, And grant my soul a gift so dear? Wisdom, descending from above, The sweetest token of thy love: 3 Wisdom, betimes to know the Lord, To fear his name, and keep his word; To lead my feet in paths of truth, And guide & guard my wand'ring youth.
4 Then, if thou grant me length of days,
My life shall still proclaim thy praise;
Or early death my soul convey
To realms of everlasting day.
HYMN CVII. Job 1. 21 (c. M.)
1 NAKED as from the earth we came,
And crept to life at first,
We to the earth return again,
And mingle with our dust.
2 The dear delights we here enjoy,
And fondly call our own,
Are but short favours borrow'd now,
To be repaid anon.
3 "Tis God that lifts our comforts high,
Or sinks them in the grave:
He gives, and (blessed be his name!)
He takes but what he gave.
4 Pace, all our angry passions, then!
Let each rebellious sigh
Be silent at his sov'reign will,
And every murmur die.
5 If smiling mercy crown our lives,
It's praises shall be spread;
And we'll adore the justice too,
That strikes our comforts dead.
HYMN CVIII. Job IV. 17-21. (L. M.)
1 SHALL the mean race of flesh and blood
Contend with their Creator, God?
Shall mortal worms presume to be
More holy, wise, or just than he?
2 Behold, he puts his trust in none
Of all the spirits round his throne:
Their natures, when compar'd with his,
Are neither holy, just, nor wise.
3 But how much meaner things are they,
Who spring from dust, and dwell in clay!
Touch'd by the finger of thy wrath,
We faint and perish like the moth.
4 From night to day, from day to night,
We die by thousands in thy sight :
Buried in dust whole nations lie,
Like a forgotten vanity.
5 Almighty power, to thee we bow!
How frail are we, how glorious thou!
No more the sons of earth shall dare
With an eternal God compare.
HYMN CIX. Job XIX. 25-7. (C.M.) 1 GREAT God, I own thy sentence just, And nature must decay:
I yield my body to the dust,
To dwell with fellow-clay.
2 Yet faith may 'triumph o'er the grave,
And trample on the tombs ;
For Jesus, my Redeemer, lives;
My God, my Saviour comes.
3 The mighty Conqu'ror shall appear
High on a royal seat,
And Death, the last of all his foes,
Lie vanquish'd at his feet.
4 Though greedy worms devour my skin,
And gnaw my wasting flesh;
Yet God shall build my bones again,
And clothe them all afresh.
5 Then shall I see thy glorious face
With strong immortal eyes,
And feast upon thine unknown grace
With pleasure and surprise.
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