University of Virginia Library

LXXIV. THE SAME.

Hymn 14.

[Ah! Lord, regard my endless woe]

Ah! Lord, regard my endless woe,
Remove at last the load I bear,
I will not, will not let Thee go,
Without an answer to my prayer,
But grieve, till Thou suppress my sighs,
And dry the fountains of my eyes.
Ceaseless I mourn my children lost,
The children whom Thy grace had given,
Or to and fro by Satan toss'd,
By every wind of doctrine driven,
Or hamper'd in the toils of hell—
Poor helpless souls, that did run well!
Part by their own inventions led,
Down the broad path of pleasure stray,
In Egypt hide their guilty head,
And happy by the fleshpots stay,
Indulge their sensual hearts' desires,
And mock at what Thy law requires.
Choked by the thorns of worldly care
Others give up their calling's prize,
No fruit unto perfection bear,
But bound in lust, or avarice,
Eternity for time forego,
And seek their base delight below.

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Stumbling on shame's offensive rock,
Others have left the thorny road,
Thy people, and Thy cause forsook,
And prudently denied their God,
Secured an honourable name,
And lost their souls, to keep their fame.
How many to the' angelic foe
Have weakly fallen an easy prey,
And let their holy calling go,
And wander'd down a smoother way,
Charm'd by his Antinomian lore,
To watch, and pray, and strive no more!
Ah! Lord, the grievous havoc see,
Which Satan of Thy church hath made,
And set once more the prisoners free,
By pride into his toils betray'd,
Once more the keen conviction dart,
And break the self-deceiving heart.
O! for the honour of Thy name,
Release the slaves to evil sold,
Again with heavenly fire inflame
The souls whose love is waxen cold,
And fix, and stablish us in grace,
The monuments of Thy perfect praise.