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217

HYMN VIII.

[Ye tempted souls, that feel]

[_]

To—“Rejoice, the Lord is King.”

Ye tempted souls, that feel
The great and sore distress,
Waiting till Christ reveal
His joy, and love, and peace:
Lift up your heads, the signs appear,
Look up, and see your Saviour near!
Long have you heard and known
The wars that rage within,
And nature still fights on,
And grace opposes sin:
Lift up your heads, &c.
Those strong convulsive throes,
That shake your inmost frame,
Those fears, and griefs, and woes,
His sure approach proclaim:
Lift up your heads, &c.
Who pine for heavenly food,
As at the point to die,
Your aching want of God
Himself shall soon supply:
Lift up your heads, &c.
That plague of your own heart,
Which poisons all the race,
Shall suddenly depart,
Expell'd by sovereign grace:
Lift up your heads, &c.
218

Ye now afflicted are,
And hated for His name,
And in your bodies bear
The tokens of the Lamb:
Lift up your heads, &c.
Who stumble at the cross,
And vilely fall away,
Deserters of the cause,
Your brethren you betray;
Lift up your heads, &c.
Lo! the false prophets rise
To vilify the true,
The truth to scandalize,
And make a prey of you:
Lift up your heads, &c.
Iniquities increase,
And many are grown cold,
And forfeiting their peace,
Have wander'd from the fold:
Lift up your heads, &c.
Who patiently endure
Till all their trials end,
Are of salvation sure,
And shall to heaven ascend:
Lift up your heads, the signs appear,
Look up, and see your Saviour here.
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