I cannot serve him as I ought,
No works have I to boast,
Yet would I glory in the thought
That I should owe him most.

338. The Pilgrim. 148.

JESU, at thy command

I launch into the deep,
And leave my native land

Where sin lulls all asleep;

For thee I fain would all resign,
And sail to heav'n with thee and thine.
What though the seas are broad,
What though the waves are strong,
What though tempestuous winds
Distress me all along;

Yet what are seas or stormy wind
Compar'd to Christ the sinner's friend?
Christ is my pilot wise,

My compass is his word,
My soul each storm defies

While I have such a Lord;

I trust his faithfulness and power
To save me in the trying hour.
Though rocks and quicksands deep
Through all my passage lie,
Yet Christ shall safely keep,

And guide me with his eye;

How can I sink with such a prop,

That bears the world and all things up?

By faith I see the land,

The haven of endless rest, My soul thy wings expand,

And fly to Jesu's breast;
O may I reach the heav'nly shore
Where winds and seas distress no more.
Whene'er becalm'd I lie,

And all my storms subside,
Then to my succour fly,

And keep me near thy side;

For more the treach'rous calm I dread
Than tempests bursting o'er my head.
Come, heav'nly wind, and blow
A prosp'rous gale of grace,
To waft from all below

To heav'n my destin'd place;

Then in full sail my port I'll find, And leave the world and sin behind. 339. Assurance. 8.

A DEBTOR to mercy alone,

Of covenant mercy I sing,
Nor fear with thy righteousness on,
My person and off'ring to bring,
The terrors of law and of God

With me can have nothing to do,
My Saviour's obedience and blood
Hide all my transgressions from view.
The work which his goodness began
The arm of his strength will complete,
His promise is Yea and Amen,
And never was forfeited yet.

Things future, nor things that are now,
Not all things below nor above,
Can make him his purpose forego,
Nor sever my soul from his love.
My name from the palms of his hands
Eternity will not erase,

Imprest on his heart it remains
În marks of indelible grace.
In
Yes, I to the end shall endure,

As sure as the earnest is given; More happy, but not more secure, The glorify'd spirit in heaven. 340. The Christian's Journey. 112th. STRANGERS and sojourners below, We travel through this wilderness, Seeking the promis'd rest to know, In Christ the fountain of true bliss ; We seek a place beyond the skies, An everlasting paradise.

In this pursuit we stand in need

Of daily fresh supplies of grace,

Our souls with manna Christ must feed,
While we his leading footsteps trace;
So shall each pilgrim gladly move
Onward unto his home above.
No earthly bliss is worth our stay,
Or struggle for another breath,
These comforts vanish and decay,
And yield no solid joy in death:
While others vain delights pursue
We taste God's love for ever new,

His cross inflicts the deadly blow,
And crucifies each rebel sin;
Peace, love, and joy, hence richly flow,
And cause sweet melody within.
Dependant on the God of power,
We glory in a suff'ring hour.
The new Jerusalem appears,
Her citizens resplendent shine,
For God hath wip'd away their tears,
And fill'd them with the life divine;
With them we shall his glory see,
And praise him through eternity.

341. The Christian Race. L. M.
AWAKE, our souls, (away our fears,
Let ev'ry trembling thought be gone,)
Awake, and run the heav'nly race,
And put a cheerful courage on.
True 'tis a straight and thorny road,
And mortal spirits tire and faint ;
But they forget the mighty God

That feeds the strength of ev'ry saint. The mighty God, whose matchless power Is ever new and ever young, And firm endures while endless years Their everlasting circles run. From thee, the overflowing spring, Our souls shall bring a fresh supply, While such as trust their native strength Shall melt away, and droop, and die.

Swift as an eagle cuts the air

L. M.

We'll mount aloft to thine abode, On wings of love our souls shall fly, Nor tire amidst the heavenly road. 342. He has done all things well. Now in a song of grateful praise, To my dear Lord, my voice I'll raise, With all his saints I'll join to tell, My Jesus has done all things well. All worlds his glorious power confess, His wisdom all his works express; But O his love, what tongue can tell! My Jesus has done all things well. How sov'reign, wonderful, and free, Has been his love to sinful me! This pluck'd me from the jaws of hell:My Jesus has done all things well. I spurn'd his grace, I broke his laws, And yet he undertook my cause, To save me though I did rebel :My Jesus has done all things well. And since my soul has known his love, What mercies has he made me prove, Mercies which do all praise excel: My Jesus has done all things well. Whene'er my Saviour and my God Has on me laid his gentle rod, I know in all that has befel My Jesus has done all things well.