Speak, Saviour! for sweet is thy voice;
Thy presence is fair to behold:
Attend to my sorrows and cries,
My groanings that cannot be told.

3 If sometimes I strive as I mourn,
My hold of thy promise to keep,
The billows more fiercely return,
And plunge me again in the deep.
While harass'd and cast from thy sight,
The tempter suggests with a roar,
"The Lord has forsaken thee quite;

Thy God will be gracious no more."

4 Yet, Lord, if thy love hath design'd
No covenant blessing for me,
Ah, tell me, how is it I find

Some pleasure in waiting for thee.
Almighty to rescue thou art;

Thy grace is my shield and my tower; Come, succour and gladden my heart, Let this be the day of thy power.

Portugal. HYMN 84. L. M.

HO Lord, thy sacred courts appear;

lovely, how divinely sweet,

Fain would my longing passions meet,
The glories of thy presence there.

2 O! blest the men, blest their employ,
Whom thy indulgent favors raise,
To dwell in those abodes of joy,
And sing their never-ceasing praise.

3 Happy the men whom strength divine,
With ardent love and zeal inspires;
Whose steps to thy blest way incline,
With willing hearts and warm desires.
4 One day within thy sacred gate,
Affords more real joy to me,

Than thousands in the tents of state;
The meanest place is bliss with thee.

DESCRIBING CHRIST.

Light Street. HYMN 85. 8 lines 11s and 8s.

OH thou in whose presence my soul takes de

light,

On whom in affliction I call;

My comfort by day, and my song in the night, My hope, my salvation, my all.

Where dost thou at noontide resort with thy sheep,

To feed on the pastures of love?

For why in the valley of death should I weep, Or alone in the wilderness rove?

2 Oh why should I wander an alien from thee, And cry in the desert for bread?

My foes will rejoice when my sorrows they see,
And smile at the tears I have shed.

Ye daughters of Zion, declare, have you seen,
The Star that on Israel shone?

Say, if in your tents my Beloved has been,
And where with his flocks he has gone?

3 This is my Beloved, his form is divine, His vestments shed odors around;

The locks on his head are as grapes on the vine,
When autumn with plenty is crown'd.
The roses of Sharon, the lilies that grow

In the vales on the banks of the streams,
On his cheeks in the beauty of excellence glow,
And his eyes are as quivers of beams.

4 His voice as the sound of the dulcimer sweet,
Is heard through the shadows of death;
The cedars of Lebanon bow at his feet,
The air is perfumed with his breath.
His lips as a fountain of righteousness flow,
That waters the garden of grace;

From which their salvation, the Gentiles shall know,

And bask in the smiles of his face.

5 Love sits in his eyelids, and scatters delight
Through all the bright mansions on high:
Their faces the cherubim veil in his sight,
And tremble with fulness of joy.

He looks, and ten thousands of angels rejoice,
And myriads wait for his word;

He speaks-and eternity, fill'd with his voice,
Re-echoes the praise of the Lord.

IS vestment of righteousness

HWho shall describe?

Its purity words would defile:
The heav'ns from his presence
Fresh beauties imbibe,

And earth is made rich by his smile. 2 Such is my beloved,

In excellence bright,

When pleas'd he looks down from above,
Like the morn when he breathes
From the chambers of light,

And comforts his people with love.

3 But when arm'd with vengeance,
In terror he comes,

The nations rebellious to tame,
The reins of omnipotent

Power he assumes,

And rides in a chariot of flame.

4 A two-edged sword

From his mouth issues forth,
Bright quivers of fire are his eyes:
He speaks, and black tempests
Are seen in the north,

And storms from their caverns arise.

5 Ten thousand destructions, That wait for his word,

And ride on the wings of his breath,
Fly swift as the wind

At the nod of their Lord,

And deal out the arrows of death.

6 His cloud-bursting thunders
Their voices resound

Through all the vast regions on high;
Till from the deep center

Loud echoes rebound,

And meet the quick flame in the sky.

7 The portals of heaven

At his bidding obey,

And expand ere his banner appear;
-Earth trembles beneath,

Till her mountains give way,
And hell shakes her fetters with fear.

8 When he treads on the clouds,
As the dust of his feet,

And grasps the big storm in his hand,
What eye the fierce glance

Of his anger shall meet,

Or who in his presence shall stand?

Geard.

HYMN 87. 4 lines 11s.

THOU sweet gliding Kedron, by thy silver

stream

Our Saviour, at midnight, when moonlight's pale

beams

Shone bright on the waters, would frequently

stray,

And lose, in thy murmurs, the toils of the day.