The joy that vain amusements give,
Oh! sad conclusion that it brings!
The honey of a crowded hive,
Defended by a thousand stings.
'Tis thus the world rewards the fools
That live upon her treacherous smiles:
She leads them blindfold by her rules,
And ruins all whom she beguiles.
God knows the thousands who go down
From pleasure into endless woe;
And with a long despairing groan
Blaspheme their Maker as they go.
O fearful thought! be timely wise:
Delight but in a Saviour's charms,
And God shall take you to the skies,
Embraced in everlasting arms.
VIII. O LORD, I WILL PRAISE THEE.—Isaiah xii. 1.
I will praise thee every day
Now thine anger's turn'd away!
Comfortable thoughts arise
From the bleeding Sacrifice.
Here in the fair gospel-field,
Wells of free salvation yield
Streams of life, a plenteous store,
And my soul shall thirst no more.
Jesus is become at length
My salvation and my strength;
And his praises shall prolong,
While I live, my pleasant song.
Praise ye then his glorious name,
Publish his exalted fame!
Still his worth your praise exceeds,
Excellent are all his deeds.
Raise again the joyful sound,
Let the nations roll it round!
Zion, shout, for this is he,
God the Saviour dwells in thee!