With grief my just reproach I bear;
Shame fills me at the thought,
How frequent my rebellions were,
What wickedness I wrought.

Thy merciful restraint I scorn'd,
And left the pleasant road;
Yet turn me, and I shall be turn'd!
Thou art the Lord my God.

"Is Ephraim banish'd from my thoughts, Or vile in my esteem?

No," saith the Lord," with all his faults,
I still remember him.

“Is he a dear and pleasant child?
Yes, dear and pleasant still;
Though sin his foolish heart beguiled,
And he withstood my will.

'My sharp rebuke has laid him low,

He seeks my face again;

My pity kindles at his woe,

He shall not seek in vain."

XIII. THE COVENANT.

Ezek. xxxvi. 25-28.

THE Lord proclaims his grace abroad!
"Behold, I change your hearts of stone;
Each shall renounce his idol-god,

And serve, henceforth, the Lord alone.

My grace, a flowing stream, proceeds
To wash your filthiness away;
Ye shall abhor your former deeds,
And learn my statutes to obey.

My truth the great design ensures,
I give myself away to you;

You shall be mine, I will be yours,
Your God unalterably true.

Yet not unsought, or unimplored,
The plenteous grace shall I confer;
No-your whole hearts shall seek the Lord,
I'll put a praying spirit there.

From the first breath of life divine,
Down to the last expiring hour,
The gracious work shall all be mine,
Begun and ended in my power.

XIV.

JEHOVAH-SHAMMAH.

Exek. xlviii. 35.

As birds their infant brood protect",

And spread their wings to shelter them,

Thus saith the Lord to his elect,

So will I guard Jerusalem.

And what then is Jerusalem,

This darling object of his care?

Where is its worth in God's esteem?
Who built it? who inhabits there?

Jehovah founded it in blood,

The blood of his incarnate Son;

There dwell the saints, once foes to God,
The sinners whom he calls his own.

6 Verse 37.

7 Isaiah, xxxi. 5.

There, though besieged on every side,
Yet much beloved, and guarded well,
From age to age they have defied
The utmost force of earth and hell.

Let earth repent, and hell despair,
This city has a sure defence;

Her name is call'd, "The Lord is there,"
And who has power to drive him thence?

XV. PRAISE FOR THE FOUNTAIN Opened.
Zech. xiii. 1.

THERE is a fountain fill'd with blood
Drawn from Emmanuel's veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;
And there have I, as vile as he,
Wash'd all my sins away.

Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransom'd church of God
Be saved, to sin no more.

E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.

Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I'll sing thy power to save;

When this poor lisping stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave.

Lord, I believe thou hast prepared
(Unworthy though I be)

For me a blood-bought free reward,
A golden harp for me!

'Tis strung and tuned for endless years,
And form'd by power divine,
To sound in God the Father's ears
No other name but thine.

XVI. THE SOWER. Matt. xiii. 3.

YE sons of earth, prepare the plough,
Break up your fallow ground;

The sower is gone forth to sow,
And scatter blessings round.

The seed that finds a stony soil
Shoots forth a hasty blade;
But ill repays the sower's toil,

Soon wither'd, scorch'd, and dead.

The thorny ground is sure to baulk
All hopes of harvest there;
We find a tall and sickly stalk,
But not the fruitful ear.

The beaten path and highway side
Receive the trust in vain;
The watchful birds the spoil divide,
And pick up all the grain.

S. C.-8.

F

But where the Lord of grace and
Has bless'd the happy field,
How plenteous is the golden store

power

The deep-wrought furrows yield!

Father of mercies, we have need
Of thy preparing grace;

Let the same hand that gives the seed
Provide a fruitful place!

XVII. THE HOUSE OF PRAYER. Mark, xi. 17.

THY mansion is the Christian's heart,

O Lord, thy dwelling-place secure!

Bid the unruly throng depart,

And leave the consecrated door.

Devoted as it is to thee,

A thievish swarm frequents the place;
They steal away my joys from me,
And rob my Saviour of his praise.
There, too, a sharp designing trade

Sin, Satan, and the World maintain ;
Nor cease to press me, and persuade
To part with ease, and purchase pain.
I know them, and I hate their din;
Am weary of the bustling crowd;
But while their voice is heard within,
I cannot serve thee as I would.

Oh! for the joy thy presence gives,

What peace shall reign when thou art there!

Thy presence makes this den of thieves

A calm delightful house of prayer,