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He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm. 2 Deep in unfathomable mines,
With never failing skill,
And works his gracious will.
The clouds ye so much dread
In blessings on your head.
But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
Unfolding every hour:
But sweet will be the flower. 6 Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain: God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.
HYMN 13. (s. m.)
Job ix, 26.
Be just before his God!
We sink beneath his rod. % If he our ways should mark
With strict inquiring eyes,
A just excuse devise ?
Who can with thee contend?
Shall prosper in the end?
The trembling earth deserts her place,
Her rooted pillars shake! 5 Ah, how shall guilty man
Contend with such a God?
HYMN 14. (L. M.)
Job ix. 30--33. 1 THOUGH I should seek to wash me clean
In water of the driven snow,
soul would yet its spot retain,
And sink in conscious guilt and wo: 2 The Spirit, in his pow'r divine,
Would cast my vaunting soul to earth, Expose the foulness of its sin,
And show the vileness of its worth. 3 Ah, not like erring man is God,
That men to answer him should dare; Condemn'd, and into silence aw'd,
They helpless stand before his bar. 4 There, must a Mediator plead,
Who, God and man, may both embrace; With God, for man to intercede,
And offer man the purchas'd grace. 5 And lo! the Son of God is slain
To be this Mediator crown'd:
HYMN 15. (L. M.) 1 ALL glorious God, what hymns of praise
Shall our transported voices raise! What ardent love and zeal are due,
While heaven stands open to our view! 2 Once we were fall’n, and 0 how low!
Just on the brink of endless wo;
Borne on the wings of boundless love,
And spread around his heavenly light!
4 He shows, beyond these mortal shores,
A bright inheritance as ours;
HYMN 16. (c. m.) 1 SALVATION! O the joyful sound,
Glad tidings to our ears,
A cordial for our fears.
At hell's dark door we lay;
And see a heav'nly day. 3 Salvation! let the echo fly
The spacious earth around;
Conspire to raise the sound.
To Thee the praise belongs:
Chorus, for the end of each verse.
HYMN 17. (c. m.)
Awake the sacred song!
Tune every heart and tongue. 2 His love, what mortal thought can reach!
What mortal tongue display!
In wonder dies away.
Left the bright realms of bliss, And came to earth to bleed and die!
Was ever love like this? 4 Dear Lord, while we adoring pay
Our humble thanks to thee,
May every heart with rapture say,
66 The Saviour died for me."
Fill every heart and tongue;
HYMN 18. (III. 3.) 1 SAVIOUR, source of every blessing,
Tune my heart to grateful lays; Streams of mercy, never ceasing;
Call for ceaseless songs of praise. 2 Teach me some melodious measure,
Sung by raptur'd saints above; Fill my
soul with sacred pleasure, While I sing redeeming love. 3 Thou didst seek me when a stranger,
Wand'ring from the fold of God; Thou, to save my soul from danger,
Didst redeem me with thy blood. 4 By thy hand restor’d, defended,
Safe through life thus far I'm come;
(c. m.) Titus iii. 47. 1 My grateful soul, for ever praise,
For ever love his name,
Of folly, sin, and shame.
Which in our works we place; Salvation from a higher source
Flows to our fallen race. 3 'Tis from the love of God through Christ,
That all our hopes begin;
And wash'd us from our sin.
His sacred fire imparts,
Enkindles in our hearts.
5 Thus rais'd from death, we live anew;
And, justified by grace, We hope in glory to appear, And see our Father's face.
HYMN 20. (c. M.) 1 HOW helpless guilty nature lies,
Unconscious of its load!
To happiness and God.
In paths of ruin stray: Reason debas'd can never find
The safe, the narrow way.
The stubborn will subdue?
To form the heart anew.
And upwards bid them rise; And make the scales of error fall
From reason's darken’d eyes.
And bid the sinner live;
'Tis thine alone to give.
And give them life divine!
HYMN 21. (c. m.) 1 FATHER, to thee my soul I lift,
On thee my hope depends, Convinc'd that every perfect gift
From thee alone descends. 2 Mercy and grace are thine alone,
And pow'r and wisdom too; Without the Spirit of thy Son
We nothing good can do. 3 Thou all our works in us hast wrought, Our good is all divine;