Of him who did salvation bring, I could forever think and sing; Arise, ye needy, he'll relieve; Arise, ye guilty, he'll forgive.

2 Ask but his grace, and lo, 'tis given!

Ask, and he turns your h.e.l.l to heaven; Though sin and sorrow wound my soul, Jesus, thy balm will make me whole.

3 'Tis thee I love, for thee alone, I shed my tears, and make my moan!

Where'er I am, where'er I move, I meet the object of my love.

4 Insatiate to this spring I fly; I drink, and yet am ever dry; Ah! who against thy charms is proof?

Ah, who that loves can love enough?

Bernard of Clairvaux, tr. by A.W. Boehm, 1712

321 The Solid Rock. L.M.

_The Sure Foundation._

My hope is built on nothing less Than Jesus' blood and righteousness; I dare not trust the sweetest frame, But wholly lean on Jesus' name.

Cho.--On Christ, the Solid Rock, I stand, All other ground is sinking sand.

2 When darkness veils his lovely face, I rest on his unchanging grace; In every high and stormy gale, My anchor holds within the vail.

3 His oath, his covenant, his blood, Support me in the whelming flood; When all around my soul gives way, He then is all my hope and stay.

4 When he shall come with trumpet sound.

O, may I then in him be found; Dressed in his righteousness alone, Faultless to stand before the throne.

Rev. Edward Mote, 1825.

322 How Can I but Love Him? 6s & 5s.

_The Exceeding Love of Christ._

So tender, so precious.

My Savior to me; So true, and so gracious, I've found him to be.

Ref.--How can I but love him?

But love him, but love him?

There's no friend above him, Poor sinner, for thee.

2 So patient, so kindly Toward all of my ways; I blunder so blindly, He love still repays.

3 Of all friends the fairest And truest is he; His love is the rarest, That ever can be.

4 His beauty, tho' bleeding And circled with thorns, Is then most exceeding; For grief him adorns.

J.E. Rankin, D.D.

323 My Beloved, 11s & 8s.

_My Beloved._

O thou, in whose presence my soul takes delight, On whom in affliction I call; My comfort by day, and my song in the night, My hope, my salvation, my all.

2 Where dost thou at noon-tide resort with thy sheep, To feed in the pastures of love?

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

3 O, why should I wander an alien from thee, Or cry in the desert for bread?

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

4 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.

Jos. Swain, 1792.

324 De Fleury. 8s. D

_The Presence of Christ Desired._

How tedious and tasteless the hours When Jesus no longer I see!

Sweet prospects, sweet birds, and sweet flowers Have lost all their sweetness to me: The midsummer sun shines but dim; The fields strive in vain to look gay; But when I am happy in him, December's as pleasant as May.

2 His name yields the richest perfume, And sweeter than music his voice; His presence disperses my gloom, And makes all within me rejoice: I should, were he always so nigh, Have nothing to wish or to fear; No mortal so happy as I; My summer would last all the year.

3 Content with beholding his face, My all to his pleasure resigned, No changes of season or place Would make any change in my mind: While blest with a sense of his love, A palace a toy would appear; And prisons would palaces prove, If Jesus would dwell with me there.

4 Dear Lord, if indeed I am thine, If thou art my sun and my song, Say, why do I languish and pine?

And why are my winters so long?

O, drive these dark clouds from my sky; Thy soul-cheering presence restore; Or take me unto thee on high, Where winter and clouds are no more.

John Newton.

325 De Fleury. 8s. D

_Phil. 1:23._ (571)

My Savior, whom absent I love, Whom, not having seen, I adore Whose name is exalted above All glory, dominion, and power,-- Dissolve thou these bands that detain My soul from her portion in thee; Ah! strike off this adamant chain, And make me eternally free!

2 When that happy era begins, When arrayed in thy glories I shine, Nor grieve any more, by my sins, The bosom on which I recline, Oh! then shall the veil be removed, And round me thy brightness be poured!

I shall meet him, whom absent I loved, I shall see, whom unseen I adored.

3 And then, nevermore shall the fears, The trials, temptations, and woes, Which darken this valley of tears, Intrude on my blissful repose; To Jesus, the crown of my hope, My soul is in haste to be gone; Oh! bear me, ye cherubim, up, And waft me away to his throne!

W. Cowper.