16 In this distress, to thee for aid
My Saviour, I repair ;

Thy wounds my helpless cause shall plead,
And hide me from despair.

17 There, blessed Saviour, take me in,
There safely let me lie,

Till thou hast purg'd my soul from sin,
And vengeance passes by.

18 Thou didst not for the righteous fall,
Thou Saviour of mankind:

Oh no, it was for me, and all,
Like me, corrupt and blind.

19 To the bright beams of faith in thee
I lift my weeping eyes;

My wretched state with pity see;
Hear, and enforce my cries.

20 Wash me, O wash me in that tide,
Which from thy wounds did flow;

The bolt of justice turn aside,

And shield me from its blow.

21 My guilt arrests my timid prayer
From the celestial throne;

Be thou my intercessor there,
And for that guilt atone.

22 Then wrath and justice, thus appeas'd,
And room for mercy given,

My soul may live, and God be prais'd,
For a new joy in heaven.

23 Methinks to mitigate the laws,
Through faith I see thee rise;

I see damnation in my cause,
Salvation in thy eyes.

24 I hear thee plead my faith, my prayers,
My penitential tears;
This plea, alas! proportion bears,
Nor to my guilt, nor fears.

25 But this imperfect plea to aid,

Thy wounds I see thee shew;

Those wounds that for my ransom paid
From endless chains below.

26 This justice of its wrath disarms;
This mercy sets at large;
This dissipates my dire alarms;

This, conscience, clears thy charge.

27 O with what ecstasy, what bliss,
I hear the loud acclaim
Of angels, who adore for this,

My God, thy glorious name.

28 Since heaven, my soul, vouchsafes to make Thy happiness it's own; Since hallelujahs, for thy sake,

Salute th' eternal throne;

29 Re-echo to the world below
The joyful song of love:

What thou hast felt, let sinners know,
That mercy reigns above.

30 To transport, O my God, like mine,
No words can give a dress;
Goodness and tenderness like thine,
No transport can express.

31 Above all heights thy mercies soar,
Beneath all depths they sound;

They stretch where time and place no more
Afford or end, or bound.

32 O for the trumpet which shall shake
The still and silent tomb,

And all mankind, at once awake
To their eternal doom!

33 Thro' this to such as sleep in sin,
I'd roar my late alarms;
Or try despairing souls to win
By sounding mercy's charms.

34 And as the highest pitch of praise,
To which my thanks could fly,
It's very loudest sounds I'd raise,
And thus those sounds apply.

35 Although the sins that press'd my head,
Were all as mountains great,
Countless as dust, as scarlet red,

And my repentance late;

36 Yet even to me, when hopes were past, God's Holy Spirit lent

Grace to return, and at the last
Sincerely to repent.

37 Altho' my Saviour's laws I broke,

And on his precepts trod,

His blood redeem'd me from the stroke

Of an avenging God.

38 Justice appeas'd, the Father gave
Sweet mercy leave to reign;

From hell he snatch'd me, and the grave,
While friends accus'd in vain ;

39 Snatch'd me with his all-gracious hand
From hell's devouring flames,
And set me a just kindled brand,
'Midst Eden's flow'ry streams.

40 Here by the tree of life I grow,
And firmly striking root,
My blossoms now begin to blow,
And promise wholesome fruit.

41 Hosannah to the Trinity,
Whose glory as of old,

So ever loudly let it be

By men and angels told.

FEAR AND HOPE.

1 My God is gracious, and I'm vile;
But as I sin deplore,
Perhaps on me he yet may smile—
He smiles and I adore.

2 Through blended tears of joy and woe
Let me behold his face,

And let those tears in torrents flow,
That flow from springs of grace.

3 Water'd by tears, and warm'd by joy,
A gratitude takes root,

Which no heart-winter shall annoy
In blossom, or in fruit.

4 If thou, O Lord, shall deign to shine On my corrupted earth,

A fruitful harvest, wholly thine,

From thence shall take its birth.

5 Break up, O Lord, my fallow ground;
Send in the plough and spade;
O fence me strongly round and round,
Lest beasts and fiends invade.

6 Pluck from my heart the noxious weeds, Which now the soil disgrace;

O sow therein thy wholesome seeds,
And give the wish'd increase.

7 Let mercy warm the tender root
Of that which thou hast sown,
That hope may cherish the new fruit,
"Till to full ripeness grown.

8 And putrid as my heart hath been,
To thee and goodness dead,
Thy hand there felt, and not unseen,
A plenteous crop shall spread.-

9 This known among thy husbandmen,
Shall industry persuade,

Even where the thicket or the fen
Forbade the plough and spade.

10 Urge thou, O Lord, while I stand fair,
Thy penetrating dart,

And drive-but drive not to despair
A self-dejected heart.

11 I tremble on the verge of time,
On doubting billows tost;
Is either hope or fear a crime?
No, or I'm doubly lost.

12 Yet how can hope of glory dwell,
Where sin so long hath dwelt?
How dare I feel the dread of hell,
Since Christ in me is felt?

13 O when shall this contention cease,
Of hope and fear this strife?
When shall I taste internal peace;
Sweet peace, the life of life.

14 Let hope in thee, O Lord, prevail
My drooping soul to cheer;

Let no new doubts that hope assail,
Nor aggravate my fear.

15 My hopes resounded to thy flock,
Shall courage give to all,

Who building high on thee their rock,
Shall dread no future fall.

16 From all the depths of sin and fear
Repentant I ascend;

By strong-wing'd faith, and through this tear,
My God to thee I tend.

17 Among men David bears the mark
Of a most Godlike mind;

A mind inspir'd, and yet so dark!
So wise, and yet so blind!

18 O Son of Jesse, great and good!
To passion what a thrall!

How sunk in lust, in fraud, in blood!
From God how great a fall!

19 Who slew the poor man's single lamb,
When he had sheep in store;
Himself and visitor to cram?

David did this, and more.

20 Tho' he had hundreds of his own,
Debauch'd Uriah's wife;

Husband of that one wife alone,
And took Uriah's life.

21 By pleasure fell, by trouble rose,

His only way to rise.

We fools, who lawless pleasure chose,
By trouble may grow wise.

22 Presume not man, for David fell,
Caught in Satanic snare;
But rose again from sin and hell,
That no man may despair.*

23 Who teaches me myself to know,
My thread of life to span;

So short, so weak, so coarse, so low?
Thou, David, art the man.

This thought is borrowed from bishop Hall.