The book of sacred song . wisdom wilPd it so;The Sons obedience knew no NO; Both wills were of one as that wisdom had decreed,The Word was now made flesh indeed, And took on Him our nature. ELIZABETHAN : STUART. What comfort by Him do we win,Who made Himself the price of sin, To make us heirs of glory !To see this Babe, all innocence,A martyr born in our defence; Can man forget this story ? A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER. EAR me, O God !A broken heart9_ Is my best part:Use still Thy rod,That I may proveTherein, Thy love. If Thou hadst notBeen stern to me,But left me free, I had forgot My
The book of sacred song . wisdom wilPd it so;The Sons obedience knew no NO; Both wills were of one as that wisdom had decreed,The Word was now made flesh indeed, And took on Him our nature. ELIZABETHAN : STUART. What comfort by Him do we win,Who made Himself the price of sin, To make us heirs of glory !To see this Babe, all innocence,A martyr born in our defence; Can man forget this story ? A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER. EAR me, O God !A broken heart9_ Is my best part:Use still Thy rod,That I may proveTherein, Thy love. If Thou hadst notBeen stern to me,But left me free, I had forgot Myself and Thee ; For sins so sweet, As minds ill bent Rarely repent,Until they meet Their punishment. Jonson. THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Who more can crave Than Thou hast done ? Thou gavst a SonTo free a slave: First made of nought; Withal since bought, Sin, death, and hell His glorious name Quite overcame;Yet I rebel, And slight the same. But Ill come in Before my loss Me farther toss,As sure to win Under His cross. WEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky,The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;For thou must die. ELIZABETHAN: STUART. Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,Thy root is ever in its grave,And thou must die. Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie,My music shows ye have your closes,And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives;But though the whole world turn to coal,Then chiefly lives. Herbert. HAVING COMPASSION ON OUR INFIRMITIES. THROW away Thy rod,Throw away thy wrath;O my God,Take the gentle path. For my hearts desireUnto Thine is bent: I aspireTo a full consent.
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