My God, my grateful heart I'll raise,
A daily altar to thy praise;
Thy friendly hand my course directs,
Thy watchful eye my bed protects.
When tempests, woes, and death are nigh,
Past mercies teach me where to fly:
The same Almighty arm can aid,
Now sickness grieves and pains invade.
To all the various helps of art
Kindly thy healing power impart;
Bethesda's bath refus'd to save,
Unless an angel bless'd the wave.
All medicines act by thy decree,
Receive commission all from thee;
And not a plant which spreads the plains,
But teems with health when Heaven ordains.
Clay and Siloam's Pool we find
At Heaven's command restore the blind;
Hence Jordan's Waters once were seen
To wash a Syrian leper clean.
But grant me greater favours still,
Grant me to know and do thy will;
Purge my soul from every stain,
And save me from eternal pain.
Can such a wretch for pardon sue!
My sins, my sins arise to view!
Arrest my trembling tongue in prayer
And pour the horrors of despair.
But, oh! regard my contrite sighs,
My troubled breast, my streaming eyes;
To me thy boundless love extend,
My God, my Father, and my Friend.
These tender names I ne'er could plead, Had not thy Son vouchsaf'd to bleed; His blood procures for Adam's race Admittance to the throne of grace.
When vice has shot its poison'd dart, And conscious guilt corrodes the heart, His blood is all-sufficient found
To draw the shaft and heal the wound.
What arrows pierce so deep as sin?
What venom gives such pain within?
Thou great Physician of the soul!
Rebuke my pangs, and make me whole.
Oh! if I trust thy sovereign skill,
With due submission to thy will,
Sickness and Death shall both agree
To bring me, Lord, at last to thee.
From STONHOUSE'S Sick Man's Friend.
"God speaketh once, yea, twice, yet man perceiveth it not." xxxiii. 14.
Lord, how often Thou hast spoken,
Though the same I ne'er perceiv'd,
And thy laws how often broken,
And thy Holy Spirit griev'd!
From my going forth at morning
Till the setting of the sun,
Did not conscience give me warning
How much evil I had done?
Deaf to that small voice within,
I repented not of sin.
And when at night I sought repose,
Thoughts would enter of the grave,
"Oh, ere in death mine eyelids close
Have I not a soul to save?"
And when deep slumber on me fell,
Then in visions of the night,
Thou, and judgment, heaven, and hell,
All were present to my sight;
But those thoughts I chas'd away,
Nor the vision did obey.
Ne'er read I, Lord, but in my pride,
The holy volume of thy Word,
Whilst unto others I applied
All from teachers' lips I heard.
At last came sorrow, sickness, pain:
By these thou callest now, my God!
O grant thou may'st not call in vain,
Make me hear thy chast'ning rod; Bring me to myself at last,
And give me pardon for the past.
Christian! art thou poor in spirit? Thou Christ's kingdom shalt inherit. Mourn'st thou? there remains a day When thy grief shall pass away.
Meek in spirit and in mind,
Thou on earth shalt treasure find.
Pants thy soul for righteousness?
Heaven abundantly will bless.
Let mercy in thy bosom glow,
And God His mercy will bestow.
To thine unpolluted heart
He His presence will impart.
Be ever peace on earth thine aim,
And Child of God shall be thy name;
And though thou suffer for the faith,
Thine is the kingdom, Jesus saith.
Art thou reviled for the Lord?
Oh, great in heaven is thy reward;
For holy men thus suffer'd too,
And their reward awaiteth you.
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