4 Fill with inviolable peace,

'Stablish and keep my settled heart;
In thee may all my wanderings cease;
From thee no more may I depart;
Thy utmost goodness called to prove,
Loved with an everlasting love!

L. M.

387.

C. WESLEY.

The unspeakable Riches of Christ's Grace.

1 "COME, all ye souls by sin oppressed, Ye restless wanderers after rest,

Ye poor and maimed and halt and blind, In me a hearty welcome find.”

2 Such is the Saviour's gracious call,
The invitation given to all:

My soul, no more refuse to embrace
The plenitude of Gospel grace ; —

3 A pardon written with his blood,
The favor and the peace of God;
The seeing eye, the feeling sense,
The mystic joys of penitence;-

4 The godly fear, the pleasing smart,
The meltings of a broken heart;
The tears that fall for sins forgiven,
The sighs that waft the soul to heaven;

5 The guiltless shame, the sweet distress,
The unutterable tenderness;

The genuine, meek humility;

The wonder, "Why such love to me?"

6 The o'erwhelming power of saving grace, The sight that veils the seraph's face,

The speechless awe that dares not move,
And all the silent heaven of love.

That all commanding name;
O may it virtue's strength restore,
And raise devotion's flame!

2 I bow at thy commands, And filial homage pay;

With heart and life, with tongue and hands. I'll cheerfully obey.

3 No more will I transgress,

As I too oft have done;
But every sinful thought suppress,
Each sinful action shun.

4 Do thou the strength impart
This purpose to fulfil :

Lord, write thy laws upon my heart,
That I may do thy will.

8, 7, & 4s. M.

389.

ANONYMOUS.

"Whosoever will, let him come."

1 "COME!" the Saviour's voice is calling;
Now is the accepted hour:
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity, love, and power;
He is able,

He is willing,

- doubt no more.

2 Let not conscience make you linger,
Nor of fitness fondly dream;
All the fitness he requireth
Is to feel your need of him;
This he gives you,-

'T is the Spirit's struggling beam.

3 Come, ye weary, heavy-laden;

Wait not, 't is your Saviour's call; If you tarry till you 're better, You will never come at all. Not the righteous,

Sinners, Jesus came to call.

C. M.

390.

BP. MIDDLETON.

Regret for Past Neglects.

1 As o'er the past my memory strays, Why heaves the secret sigh?

2

'T is that I mourn departed days,
Still unprepared to die.

The world, and worldly things beloved,
My anxious thoughts employed;
And time unhallowed, unimproved,
Presents a fearful void.

3 Yet, Holy Father! wild despair
Chase from my laboring breast;

Thy grace it is which prompts the prayer: That grace can do the rest.

4 My life's brief remnant all be thine;
And when thy sure decree

Bids me this fleeting breath resign,
O speed my soul to thee!

S. M.

391.

For Help in Temptation.

C. WESLEY

1 THOU seest my feebleness;
Father! be thou my power!
My help and refuge in distress,
My fortress and my tower!

2 Give me to trust in thee;
Be thou my sure abode;
My helm, and sword, and buckler be,
My Saviour and my God!

3 Myself I cannot save,
Myself I cannot keep;

But strength in thee I surely have,
Whose eyelids never sleep.

4 My soul to thee alone,

1

2

For always, I commend;

O take me, Father, for thine own,
And keep me to the end.

S. M.

392. FROM THE SPANISH, VARIED.

Come, wandering Sheep!

COME, wandering sheep! O come!
I'll bind thee to my breast;
I'll gently bear thee to thy home,
And lay thee down to rest.

I saw thee stray forlorn,

And heard thee faintly cry;

And on the tree of shame and scorn,
For thee, I came to die.

3

I'll shield thee from alarms,
I'll make thee truly blest,

I'll fold thee in my peaceful arms;
Wilt thou not take my rest?

4 Thou conquerest, Love divine!
Throw wide, my heart, thy door!
O Christ, its throne is only thine,
Henceforth for evermore.

7s. M.

393.

ILSLEY.

"Follow me."

1 VOYAGER on life's troubled sea,
Sailing to Eternity!

Turn from earthly things away,
Vain they are, and brief their stay:
Voyager! what are they to thee?
Leave them all and "follow me."

2 Traveller on the road of life!
Seeking pleasure, finding strife,
Know the world can never give
Aught on which the soul can live:
Traveller, what are they to thee?
Leave them all, and "follow me."

3 Wanderer from thy Father's throne,
Hasten back, thy errings own:
Turn, thy path leads not to heaven;
Turn, thy sins will be forgiven :
Wanderer! have they charms for thee?
Hasten, then, to "follow me."