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C. The Enchantment dissolved.

1 BLINDED in youth by Satan's arts,
The world to our unpractis'd hearts
A flatt ring prospect shows;

Our fancy forms a thousand schemes
Of gay delights, and golden dreams,
And undisturb'd repose.

2 So in the desert's dreary waste,
By magic pow'r produc'd in haste
(As ancient fables say),

Castles, and groves, and music sweet,
The senses of the trav'ller meet,
And stop him in his way.

3 But while he listens with surprise,
The charm dissolves, the vision dies,
'Twas but enchanted ground:
Thus if the Lord our spirit touch,
The world, which promis'd us so much,
A wilderness is found.

4 At first we start, and feel distress'd,
Convinc'd we never can have rest
In such a wretched place;
But he whose mercy breaks the charm,
Reveals his own Almighty arm,

And bids us seek his face.

5 Then we begin to live indeed,

When from our sin and bondage freed

By this beloved Friend;

We follow him from day to day,
Assur'd of grace through all the way,
And glory at the end.





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HYMN I. Expostulation.

1 No words can declare,
No fancy can paint,
What rage and despair,
What hopeless complaint,
Fill Satan's dark dwelling,
The prison beneath;
What weeping and yelling,
And gnashing of teeth!

2 Yet sinners will choose
This dreadful abode;
Each madly pursues
The dangerous road;

Though God give them warning,
They onward will go,

They answer with scorning,
And rush upon woe.

3 How sad to behold
The rich and the poor,
The young and the old,
All blindly secure!

All posting to ruin,
Refusing to stop;

Ah! think what you're doing,
While yet there is hope!

4 How weak is your hand,
To fight with the Lord!
How can you withstand
The edge of his sword?
What hope of escaping
For those who oppose,
When hell is wide gaping
To swallow his foes!

5 How oft have you dar'd
The Lord to his face!
Yet still you are spar'd
To hear of his grace;
Oh! pray for repentance
And life-giving faith,
Before the just sentence
Consign you to death.

6 It is not too late

To Jesus to flee,

His mercy is great,
His pardon is free!

His blood has such virtue,
For all that believe,

That nothing can hurt you,
If him you receive.

II. Alarm.

1 STOP, poor sinner! stop and think
Before you farther go!
Will you sport upon the brink
Of everlasting woe?

Once again, I charge you, stop!
For, unless you warning take,
Ere you are aware, you drop
Into the burning lake!

2 Say, have you an arm like God,
That his will oppose?

Fear you not that iron rod


With which he breaks his foes? you stand in that dread day, When he judgement shall proclaim, And the earth shall melt away Like wax before the flame?

3 Pale-fac'd death will quickly come, To drag you to his bar;

Then to hear your awful doom
Will fill you with despair:

All your sins will round

you crowd,

Sins of a blood-crimson dye;

Each for vengeance crying loud,

And what can you reply?

4 Though your heart be made of steel, Your forehead lin'd with brass,

God at length will make

you feel, He will not let you pass:

Sinners then in vain will call

(Though they now despise his grace),
Rocks and mountains on us fall,
And hide us from his face *.

5 But as yet there is a hope

You may his mercy know;
Though his arm is lifted up,

He still forbears the blow:

'Twas for sinners Jesus dy'd, Sinners he invites to come;

None who come shall be deny'd,

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1 SHALL men pretend to pleasure
Who never knew the Lord?
Can all the worldling's treasure
True peace of mind afford?
They shall obtain this jewel
And what their hearts desire,
When they, by adding fuel,
Can quench the flame of fire.

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