HYMN 50.
[Thy Bowels unto Sinners, Lord]
Matth. 23. 37. How often would I have gathered thy Children together, as a Hen gathereth her Chickens under her Wings.
[The First Part.]
Thy Bowels unto Sinners, Lord,
Is shewed by the Hen,
Who in her care of all her young
Doth far exceed some Men.
How will she fly into the face
Of such who would destroy
Her pretty Brood! she can't endure
They should them once annoy.
But ah! thy bowels far exceed
All Creatures here below;
For thou for Sinners, Lord, didst bleed,
Compassion great to show.
The Hen herself to weakness brings
Whilst of her young takes care,
How does she scratch and strive each day
To feed them here and there?
But, Lord, thou brought'st thy self so low
That we might all be fed,
That in the grave a while didst lye
After that thou wast dead:
And as a Hen does cluck and call
According to her kind,
Thereby to save her Chickens all
From Kites, which she does find
Do often of them make a prey,
So dost thou call and cry
To Sinners, whilst it is to day,
Whom thou dost, Lord, espy
To be in danger by their sin
And Devils many ways;
Nay, thou dost call and call agen
Full oft, for many days.
The Second Part.
The Hen stands ready and prepar'd,
Hov'ring her mournful wings,
And never is she satisfy'd
Till under them she brings:
So thou dost spread thy Arms, O Lord,
Poor Sinners to bring in,
And bids the weary come to thee
Who laden are with sin.
O then come in ye Sinners all
Under Christ's wings with speed,
He will receive you great and small,
And nothing shall you need.
And O how safe are you his Saints!
Under his wings you lye;
Then fear no hurt from outfard Foes,
Nor inward Enemy.
They who are wise will certainly
In mind these things record,
And so they will with ease espy
The kindness of the Lord.
