Monday Evening.
“Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace.”
—Heb. iv. 16.
There is a spot of consecrated ground,
Where brightest hopes and holiest joys are found:
’Tis named (and Christians love the well-known sound)
The throne of grace.
’Tis here a calm retreat is always found:
Perpetual sunshine gilds the sacred ground;
Pure airs and heavenly odours breathe around
The throne of grace.
While on this vantage-ground the Christian stands,
His quickened eye a boundless view commands;
Discovers fair abodes not made with hands—
Abodes of peace.
Terrestrial objects, disenchanted there,
Lose all their power to dazzle or ensnare;
One only object then seems worth our care—
To win the race.
This is the mount where Christ’s disciples see
The glory of the incarnate Deity;
’Tis here they find it good indeed to be,
And view his face.
A new creation here begins to rise;
Fruits of the Spirit, flowers of Paradise,
Watered from heaven, in full and sure supplies,
By streams of grace.
Towards this blest spot the Spirit bends his ear,
The fervent prayer, the contrite sigh to hear;
To bid the mourner banish every fear,
And go in peace.
Here may the comfortless and weary find
One who can cure the sickness of the mind;
One who delights the broken heart to bind—
The Prince of Peace.
Saviour! the sinner’s friend, our hope, our all!
Here teach us humbly at thy feet to fall;
Here on thy name, with love and faith to call
For pardoning grace.
Ne’er let the glory from this spot remove,
Till, numbered with thy ransomed flock above,
We cease to want, but never cease to love
The throne of grace.