XIV. JEHOVAH-SHAMMAH.
Ezek. xlviii. 35.
And spread their wings to shelter them,
(Thus saith the LORD to his elect,)
So will I guard Jerusalem."
And what then is Jerusalem,
This darling object of his care?
Where is its worth in God's esteem,
Who built it? who inhabits there?
Jehovah founded it in blood,
The blood of his incarnate Son;
There dwell the saints, once foes to God,
The sinners whom he calls his own.
There, though besieged on every side,
Yet much beloved, and guarded well,
From age to age they have defied
The utmost force of earth and hell.
Let earth repent, and hell despair,
This city has a sure defence;
Her name is called "The Lord is there,"
And who has power to drive him thence?
XV. PRAISE FOR THE
FOUNTAIN OPENED—Zech. xiii. 1.
Drawn from Emmanuel's veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.
The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;
And there have I, as vile as he,
Washed all my sins away.
Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,
Till all the ransomed church of God
Be saved, to sin no more.
E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.
Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I'll sing thy pow'r to save;
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave.
Lord, I believe thou hast prepared
(Unworthy though I be)
For me a blood-bought free reward,
A golden harp for me!
'Tis strung, and tuned, for endless years,
And formed by power divine,
To sound in God the Father's ears
No other name but thine.
XVI. THE SOWER.
Matt. xiii. 3.
Break up your fallow-ground;
The sower is gone forth to sow,
And scatter blessings round.
The seed that finds a stony soil
Shoots forth a hasty blade;
But ill repays the sower's toil,
Soon withered, scorched, and dead.
The thorny ground is sure to balk
All hopes of harvest there;
We find a tall and sickly stalk,
But not the fruitful ear.
The beaten path and highway side
Receive the trust in vain;
The watchful birds the spoil divide,
And pick up all the grain.
But where the Lord of grace and power
Has blessed the happy field,
How plenteous is the golden store
The deep-wrought furrows yield!
Father of mercies, we have need
Of thy preparing grace;
Let the same hand that gives the seed
Provide a fruitful place!
XVII. THE HOUSE OF PRAYER.
Mark 11:17
O Lord, thy dwelling-place secure!
Bid the unruly throng depart,
And leave the consecrated door.
