5 In vain we boast perfection here,
While sin defiles our frame,
And sinks our virtues down so far,
They scarce deserve the name.
6 Our faith and love and every grace
Fall far below Thy word;
Perfection, truth and righteousness
Dwell only with the Lord.
1 ORD, I have made Thy word my choice, My lasting heritage;
There shall my noblest powers rejoice,
My warmest thoughts engage.
2 I'll read the histories of Thy love,
And keep Thy laws in sight,
While through the promises I rove
With ever fresh delight.
3 'Tis a broad land, of wealth unknown,
Where springs of life arise,
Where seeds of endless bliss are sown,
And hidden glory lies.
4 In grief, the best relief we have,
It makes our sorrows blest;
Our only hope beyond the grave,
And our eternal rest.
MMANUEL, source of grace divine,
What soul-refreshing streams are Thine;
Oh bring these living waters nigh,
Or we must droop, despair and die.
2 No traveller in desert lands,
Scorched by the sun 'midst burning sands,
Longs more for wells, or to obtain
Relief from heat by cooling rain.
3 Our souls, revived, aloud shall sing,
Spring up, O well, let waters spring,
And in a wondrous river flow,
To cheer our onward steps below.
4 0 may these waters softly glide
Through all this desert by our side;
Till, in Immanuel's land above,
They swell to seas of boundless love.
1 THIS holy book is all divine
To man in mercy given;
Its truths all radiant and benign,
With beams of living lustre shine,
And gild the path to heaven.
2 Upon this life's uneven way,
As we are swiftly driven,
It sheds a bright celestial ray,
It points to an eternal day,
And bids us strive for heaven.
3 When earthly friends and comforts die,
How blest the promise given!
It shows a home above the sky,
And bids us, "Abba, Father," cry
To Him who is in heaven.
4 To all who in its truth confide,
A hope divine is given,
That they through grace shall firm abide,
And every threatening storm outride,
And rest at last in heaven.
INVITATIONS AND PROMISES.
OME, ye sinners, poor and wretched,
Weak and wounded, sick and sore;
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity joined with power;
He is able,
He is willing; doubt no more.
2 Come, ye needy, come and welcome,
God's free bounty glorify;
True belief, and true repentance,
Every grace that brings us nigh,
Without money,
Come to Jesus Christ and buy.
3 Let not conscience make you linger,
Nor of fitness fondly dream;
All the fitness He requireth,
Is to feel your need of Him:
This He gives you;
'Tis the Spirit's rising beam.
4 Come, ye weary, heavy laden,
Bruised and mangled by the fall;
If you tarry till you're better,
You will never come at all:
Not the righteous,
Sinners Jesus came to call.
5 View Him prostrate in the garden,
On the ground your Maker lies!
On the bloody tree behold Him,
Hear Him cry before He dies,
"It is finished!"
Sinner, will not this suffice?
6 Lo the incarnate God, ascended,
Pleads the merit of His blood:
Venture on Him, venture wholly,
Let no other trust intrude;
None but Jesus
Can do helpless sinners good.
ITO! every one that thirsteth, come,
To living waters haste;
Incline your ear, nor longer roam,
Come, without money taste.
2 How long in search of joys unchaste,
Will ye incautious tread;
And wealth and labour vainly waste,
For that which is not bread?
3 My word and grace a rich supply
Of solid pleasures give;
Come, without price, and freely buy;
Hear, and your souls shall live.
4 Seek ye the Lord, while yet His ear
Is open to your call;
While promised mercy still is near,
Before His footstool fall.
YOME hither, all ye weary souls, Ye heavy-laden sinners, come; I'll give you rest from all your toils, And raise you to My heavenly home.
2 They shall find rest that learn of Me;
I am of meek and lowly mind;
But passion rages like the sea,
And pride is restless as the wind.
3 Blessed is the man whose shoulders take
My yoke, and bear it with delight;
My yoke is easy to his neck,
My grace shall make the burden light."
4 Jesus, we come at Thy command;
With faith, and hope, and humble zeal,
Resign our spirits to Thy hand,
To mould and guide us at Thy will.
Cewed with fruitless sorrow down,
COME
YOME, ye souls, by sin afflicted,
By the broken law convicted,
By the tempter's snares undone,
Look to Jesus!
Mercy flows through Him alone.
2 Take His easy yoke and wear it,
Love will make obedience sweet;
Christ will give you strength to bear it,
While His wisdom guides your feet
Safe to glory,
Where His ransomed captives meet.
3 Sweet as home to pilgrims weary,
Light to newly opened eyes,
Flowing springs in deserts dreary,
Is the rest the cross supplies:
All who taste it,
Shall to rest immortal rise.
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