The book of sacred song . ew oft and freely mixt with mine, In lasting bonds my heart have laid :Oh what is Friendship ! w^hy imprestOn my weak, wretched, dying breast ? So many wondrous gleams of light, And gentle ardours from above,Have made me sit, like seraph bright, Some moments on a throne of love:Oh what is Virtue ! why had I,Who am so low, a taste so high ? Ere long, when sovereign wisdom wills,My soul an unknown path shall tread, And strangely leave, who strangely fillsThis frame, and waft me to the dead : TOO THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Oh what is death !—Tis lifes last s
The book of sacred song . ew oft and freely mixt with mine, In lasting bonds my heart have laid :Oh what is Friendship ! w^hy imprestOn my weak, wretched, dying breast ? So many wondrous gleams of light, And gentle ardours from above,Have made me sit, like seraph bright, Some moments on a throne of love:Oh what is Virtue ! why had I,Who am so low, a taste so high ? Ere long, when sovereign wisdom wills,My soul an unknown path shall tread, And strangely leave, who strangely fillsThis frame, and waft me to the dead : TOO THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Oh what is death !—Tis lifes last vanities are vain no more;Where all pursuits their goal obtain,,And Life is all retouchd again;Where in their bright results shall rise,Thoughts, virtues, friendships, griefs, and joys. Gambold. I AM THINE, OH SAVE ME ! HAT I am Thine, my Lord and God!Sprinkled and ransomd byThyblood,—Repeat that word once more,With such an energy and light,That this worlds flattery or spiteTo shake me never may have From various cares my heart retires;Though deep and boundless its desires, I m now to please but One :He, before whom the elders bow,With Him is all my business now, And with the souls that are His own. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. IOI This is my joy (which neer can fail),To see my Saviours arm prevail ? To mark the steps of grace;How new-born souls, convinced of sin,His blood reveald to them within, Extol my Lord in every place. With these my happy lot is cast: Through the worlds deserts, rude and waste, Or through its gardens fair;Whether the storm of malice sweeps,Or all in dead supineness sleeps ; Still to go on be my whole care. See ! the dear flock by Jesus drawn,In blest simplicity move on; They trust His shepherds many faults will find,But they can tell their Saviours mind ; Content, if written in His Book. No, my dear Lord, in following Thee,Not in the dark uncertainly, This foot obedient moves :Tis with a brother and a King,Who many t
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