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BOOK I.
JOB.
97
Which make the spirit mount on high,
And leave the world behind.

5 No more, believers, mourn jour lot,
But if you are the Lord's,
Resign to them that know him not
Such joys as earth affords.

43.
Oh that I were as in Months past!—Job, xxix, 2.

1 Sweet was the time when first I felt
The Saviour's pard'ning blood
Applied, to cleanse my soul from guilt,
And bring me home to God.

2 Soon as the morn the light reveal'd,
His praises tuned my tongue;
And when the evening shades prevail'd,
His love was all my song:

3 In vain the tempter spread his wiles,
The world no more could charm;
I lived upon my Saviour's smiles,
And lean'd upon his arm.

4 In pray'r my soul drew near the Lord,
And saw his glory shine;
And when I read his holy word
I call'd each promise mine.

5 Then to his saints I often spoke
Of what his love hath done:
But now my heart is almost broke,
For all my joys are gone.

6 Now when the evening shade prevails,
My soul in darkness mourns;
And when the morn the light reveals,
No light to me returns.

7 My pray'rs are now a chatt'ring noise,
For Jesus hides his face;
I read, the promise meets my eyes,
But will not reach my case.

E
46