Hymns and Tunes.

RETREAT. L. M.

DR. T. HASTINGS.

From ev'ry stormy wind that blows, From ev'ry swelling tide of woes,

Thore is a calma, a sure retreat: 'Tis found before the mercy-seat.

1 The Mercy-Seat.

2 There is a place, where Jesus sheds
The oil of gladness on our heads;
A place than all besides more sweet,—
It is the blood-bought mercy-seat.

3 There is a scene, where spirits blend,
Where friend holds fellowship with friend:
Though sunder'd far, by faith they meet,
Around one common mercy-seat.

4 Ah! whither could we flee for aid,
When tempted, desolate, dismayed?
Or how the hosts of hell defeat,
Had suff'ring saints no mercy-seat?
5 There, there on eagles' wings we soar,
And sin and sense molest no more;

And heaven comes down our souls to greet,
While glory crowns the mercy-seat.

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7 UXBRIDGE. L. M.

Forth from the dark and stormy sky, Lord, to thine altar's shade we fly;

Forth from the world, its hope and fear, Saviour, we seek thy shelter here.

2 Gathering for Prayer.

2 Long have we roamed in want and pain,
Long have we sought thy rest in vain ;
Weary and weak, thy grace we pray,
Turn not, O Lord! thy guests away.

3 Wildered in doubt, in darkness lost,
Long have our souls been tempest-tossed;
Low at thy feet our sins we lay;
Turn not, O Lord! thy guests away.

3 Not ashamed of Jesus.

1 JESUS, and shall it ever be,

A mortal man ashamed of thee!

Ashamed of thee, whom angels praise,-
Whose glories shine through endless days.
2 Ashamed of Jesus!-that dear Friend
On whom my hopes of heaven depend;
No!-when I blush, be this my shame,-
That I no more revere his Name.
3 Ashamed of Jesus!-yes, I may,
When I've no guilt to wash away:
No tear to wipe, no good to crave,
No fears to quell, no soul to save.
4 Till then-nor is my boasting vain-
Till then, I boast a Savior slain;
And O, may this my glory be,-
That Christ is not ashamed of me.

HYMNS TO UXBRIDGE.

4 Glorying only in the Cross.

1 WHEN I survey the wondrous cross On which the Prince of glory died, My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride. 2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,

Save in the death of Christ, my God; All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.

3 See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down:
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
4 Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small :
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

5 The Wanderer's Return.

1 RETURN, O wanderer, return,

And seek an injured Father's face; Those warm desires that in thee burn Were kindled by reclaiming grace.

2 Return, O wanderer, return,

Thy Saviour bids thy spirit live; Go to his bleeding feet, and learn How freely Jesus can forgive.

6 Earthly things vain and transitory. 1 HOW vain is all beneath the skies! How transient every earthly bliss! How slender all the fondest ties

That bind us to a world like this!

2 The evening cloud, the morning dew,
The with'ring grass, the fading flower,
Of earthly hopes are emblems true-
The glory of a passing hour.

3 But though earth's fairest blossoms die,
And all beneath the skies is vain,
There is a brighter world on high,
Beyond the reach of care and pain.
4 Then let the hope of joys to come

Dispel our cares, and chase our fears:
If God be ours, we're trav'ling home,
Though passing through a vale of tears.

7 The race for glory.

2 'Tis God's all-animating voice
That calls thee from on high;

'Tis he whose hand presents the prize
To thine aspiring eye.

3 A cloud of witnesses around
Hold thee in full survey;
Forget the steps already trod,
And onward urge thy way.

4 Blest Saviour! introduced by thee,
Our race have we begun;

And, crown'd with vict'ry, at thy feet
We'll lay our trophies down.

8 The minister's only business.

1 JESUS, the Name high over all,
In hell, or earth, or sky;
Angels and men before it fall,
And devils fear and fly.