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Ye fearful faints, fresh courage take,

The clouds

ye fo much dread

Are big with mercy, and fhall break, In bleffings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble fenfe,

But truft him for his

grace;

Behind a frowning providence
He hides a fmiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev'ry hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,
But fweet will be the flow'r.

Blind unbelief is fure to err *,
And fcan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.

* John xiii. 7.

RETIREMENT.

FAR from the world, O Lord, I flee,
From ftrife and tumult far;
From scenes where Satan wages ftill
His moft fuccefsful war.

The calm retreat, the filent fhade,
With pray'r and praise agree;
And feem, by thy fweet bounty made,
For those who follow thee.

There if thy Spirit touch the foul,
And grace her mean abode,

Oh, with what peace, and joy, and love,
She communes with her God!

There like the nightingale fhe pours
Her folitary lays;

Nor asks a witness of her fong,

Nor thirfts for human praise.

Author and Guardian of my life,
Sweet fource of light divine,
And (all harmonious names in one)
My Saviour, thou art mine!

What thanks I owe thee, and what love,

A boundless, endless store,

Shall echo thro' the realms above
When time fhall be no more.

TEMPTATION.

THE billows fwell, the winds are high,
Clouds overcaft my wintry fky;

Out of the depths to thee I call,

My fears are great, my ftrength is fmall.

O Lord, the pilot's part perform,

And guide and guard me thro' the storm; Defend me from each threat'ning ill, Controul the waves, fay, "Peace, be still,??

Amidst the roaring of the sea,
My foul still hangs her hope on thee;
Thy conftant love, thy faithful care,
Is all that faves me from defpair.

Dangers of ev'ry shape and name Attend the follow'rs of the Lamb, Who leave the world's deceitful fhore, And leave it to return no more.

Tho' tempeft-tofs'd and half a wreck, My Saviour thro' the floods I feek; Let neither winds nor ftormy main

Force back

my fhatter'd bark again.

SUBMISSION.

O LORD, my beft defire fulfil,

And help me to refign

Life, health, and comfort to thy will, And make thy pleafure mine.

Why fhould I fhrink at thy command,
Whofe love forbids my fears?

Or tremble at the gracious hand
That wipes away my tears?

No, let me rather freely yield
What most I prize to Thee;
Who never haft a good with-held,
Or wilt with-hold from me.

Thy favour, all my journey thro'
Thou art engag'd to grant;
What else I want, or think I do,
'Tis better still to want.

Wisdom and mercy guide my way,
Shall I refift them both?

A poor blind creature of a day,

And crufh'd before the moth!

But ah! my inward fpirit cries,
Still bind me to thy fway;

Elfe the next cloud that vails my fkies,
Drives all these thoughts away.

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