5 Amazing love—that yet will call, And yet prolong our days! Our hearts, subdued by goodness, fall, And weep, and love, and praise.
357 C. M. God giveth grace to the humble.
Come, let us to the Lord our God, With contrite hearts return! Our God is gracious, nor will leave The desolate to mourn.
2 His voice commands the tempest forth, And stills the stormy wave; And though his arm be strong to smite, ’Tis also strong to save.
3 Our hearts, if God we seek to know, Shall know him and rejoice; His coming like the morn shall be; Like morning songs his voice.
4 As dew upon the tender herb, Diffusing fragrance round; As showers that usher in the spring, And cheer the thirsty ground:
5 So shall his presence bless our souls, And shed a joyful light That hallowed morn shall chase away The sorrows of the night.
358 C. M. There is joy over one sinner, etc. Luke 15:7.
O how divine, how sweet the joy, When but one sinner turns, And, with a humble, broken heart, His sins and errors mourns!
2 Pleased with the news, the saints below, In songs their tongues employ; Beyond the skies the tidings go, And heaven is filled with joy.
3 Well pleased the Father sees, and hears The conscious sinner’s moan; Jesus receives him in his arms, And claims him for his own.
4 Nor angels can their joy contain, But kindle with new fire; “The sinner lost is found,” they sing, And strike the sounding lyre.
359 C. M. The heart’s surrender.
Welcome, O Saviour! to my heart; Possess thy humble throne; Bid every rival hence depart, And claim me for thine own.
2 The world and Satan I forsake— To thee, I all resign; My longing heart, O Jesus! take, And fill with love divine.
3 O! may I never turn aside, Nor from thy bosom flee; Let nothing here my heart divide— I give it all to thee.
360 C. M. Whoso forsaketh not all that he hath. Luke 14:33.
And must I part with all I have, Jesus, my Lord! for thee? This is my joy, since thou hast done Much more than this for me.
2 Yes, let it go; one look from thee Will more than make amends For all the losses I sustain Of credit, riches, friends.
3 Ten thousand worlds, ten thousand lives, How worthless they appear, Compared with thee, supremely good, Divinely bright and fair.
4 Saviour of souls! while I from thee A single smile obtain, Though destitute of all things else, I’ll glory in my gain.
361 C. M. A plea for mercy.
Mercy alone can meet my case, For mercy, Lord, I cry; Jesus, Redeemer, show thy face In mercy, or I die.
2 I perish, and my doom were just; But wilt thou leave me? No! I hold thee fast, my hope, my trust; I will not let thee go.
3 To thee, thee only, will I cleave; Thy word is all my plea; That word is truth, and I believe— Have mercy, Lord, on me.
362 C. M. It is I: be not afraid. Matt. 14:27.
When I sink down in gloom or fear, Hope blighted or delayed, Thy whisper, Lord, my heart shall cheer, “’Tis I: be not afraid!”
2 Or, startled at some sudden blow, If fretful thoughts I feel, “Fear not, it is but I!” shall flow As balm my wound to heal.
3 Nor will I quit thy way, though foes Some onward pass defend; From each rough voice the watchword goes, “Be not afraid! ... a friend!”
4 And O! when judgment’s trumpet clear Awakes me from the grave, Still in its echo may I hear, “’Tis Christ! he comes to save.”
363 C. P. M. Christ our only hope.
Desponding soul, O cease thy woe; Dry up thy tears; to Jesus go, In faith’s appointed way; Let not thy unbelieving fears Still hold thee back—thy Saviour hears— From him no longer stay.
2 No works of thine can e’er impart A balm to heal thy wounded heart, Or solid comfort give; Turn, then, to him who freely gave His precious blood thy soul to save: E’en now he bids thee live.
3 Helpless and lost, to Jesus fly! His power and love are ever nigh To those who seek his face; Thy deepest guilt on him was laid; He bore thy sins, thy ransom paid; O, haste to share his grace.
364 S. M. You shall find rest for your souls. Matt. 11:29.
Ah! what avails my strife, My wandering to and fro? Thou hast the words of endless life; Ah! whither should I go?
2 Thy condescending grace To me did freely move; It calls me still to seek thy face, And stoops to ask my love.
3 Lord! at thy feet I fall; I long to be set free; I fain would now obey the call, And give up all for thee.
365 S. M. Yielding.
And can I yet delay My little all to give? To tear my soul from earth away For Jesus to receive?