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Chapter 128 of 146

State of the Lost

2 min read · Chapter 128 of 146

 

881 Gratitude for Escape

 

1 LOOK down, my soul, on hell's domains, That world of agony and pains!

What crowds are now associate there, Of widely different character.

 

2 Oh were it not for grace divine, This case so dreadful had been mine!

Hell gaped for me! but, Lord, Thy hand Snatch'd from the fire the kindling brand.

 

3 And now, though wrath was my desert, I hope to share a better part; But heaven mast wonder sure to see A sinner enter, vile as me.

 

4 Oh grace, rich grace, delightful theme!

All heaven shall echo with the same;

While angels greet a sinner thus—

"Art thou become like one of us?"

John Ryland, 1777.

882 The everlasting Absence of God intolerable 1 THAT awful day will surely come, (Th' appointed hour makes haste,) When I must stand before my Judge, And pass the solemn test.

 

2 Thou lovely chief of all my joys, Thou sovereign of my heart!

How could I bear to hear Thy voice Pronounce the sound, "Depart"?

 

3 Oh wretched state of deep despair; To see my God remove, And fix my doleful station where I must not taste His love!

 

4 Jesus, I throw my arms around, And hang upon Thy breast;

Without a gracious smile from Thee My spirit cannot rest.

 

5 Oh! tell me that my worthless name Is graven on Thy hands;

Show me some promise in Thy book, Where my salvation stands!

 

6 Give me one kind assuring word To sink my fears again; And cheerfully my soul shall wait Her threescore years and ten.

Isaac Watts, 1709.

883 The Second Death 1 OH where shall rest be found, Rest for the weary soul?

'Twere vain the ocean's depths to sound, Or pierce to either pole.

 

2 Beyond this vale of tears There is a life above, Unmeasured by the flight of years, And all that life is love.

 

3 There is a death whose pang Outlasts the fleeting breath;

Oh, what eternal horrors hang Around "the second death"!

 

4 Lord God of truth and grace, Teach us that death to shun;

Lest we be banish'd from Thy face, And evermore undone.

 

5 Here would we end our quest;

Alone are found in Thee, The life of perfect love—the rest Of immortality.

James Montgomery, 1619

 

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