Wither'd my nature's strength, from thee Contented now upon my thigh I halt, till life's short journey end; On Thee alone for strength depend; Lame as I am, I take the prey; Hell, earth, and sin with ease o'ercome; I leap for joy, pursue my way, And as a bounding hart fly home; Through all eternity to prove Thy Nature and thy Name is Love. For the New Year. Come, let us anew Our journey pursue, Roll round with the year, And never stand still till the Master appear. His adorable will Let us gladly fulfil, And our talents improve, By the patience of hope, and the labour to love. Our life is a dream; Our time, as a stream, Gildes swiftly away; And the fugitive moment refuses to stay. The arrow is flown; The moment is gone; The millennial year Rushes on to our view, and eternity's here. CHARLES WESLEY. O that each in the day Of His coming may say, “I have fought my way through; I have finish'd the work Thou didst give me to do." O that each from his Lord Enter into my joy, and sit down on my throne." Gone Home. Rejoice for a brother deceased, And mount with his spirit above, And lodged in the Eden of love. Our brother the haven hath gain'd And left his companions behind, Hard toiling to make the blest shore, There all the ship's company meet, Who sail'd with the Saviour beneath; The mortal affliction is past; 411 THOMAS OLIVERS. Although converted by the preaching of Whitefield, this fervid Welshman attached himself to the cause and the connexion of Mr Wesley, and for some time aided him in editing the "Arminian Magazine," and his dust now rests in Mr Wesley's tomb, behind the chapel in City Road. He was born at Tregonan, Montgomeryshire, in 1725, and died in March 1799.* "Creamer's Methodist Hymnology:" New York, 1848. "Gadsby's Hymn Writers." OLIVERS. He calls a worm his friend, He calls Himself my God; And He shall save me to the end, Through Jesu's blood. He by Himself hath sworn, I shall, on eagles' wings upborne, I shall behold His face, SECOND PART. Though nature's strength decay, And earth and hell withstand, To Canaan's bounds I urge my way, At His command. The watery deep I pass, With Jesus in my view; And through the howling wilderness My way pursue. The goodly land I see, With peace and plenty blest; A land of sacred liberty, And endless rest. There milk and honey flow; And oil and wine abound; And trees of life for ever grow, There dwells the Lord our King, On Sion's sacred height, His kingdom still maintains; And glorious with His saints in light For ever reigns. 413 He keeps His own secure, With streams of sacred bliss, THIRD PART. Before the great Three-One The listening spheres attend, The God who reigns on high Who was and is the same, Before the Saviour's face, He shews His prints of love,- And sound through all the worlds above. The whole triumphant host Give thanks to God on high; "Hail, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost," They ever cry: |