1 The new-born child of gospel-grace,
Like some fair tree when summer's nigh,
Beneath Emmanuel's shining face,
Lifts up his blooming branch on high.
2 No fear he feels, he sees no foes,
no conflict yet his faith employs,
Nor has he learnt to whom he owes,
The strength and peace his soul enjoys.
3 But sin soon darts its cruel sting,
And comforts sink from day to day:
What seem'd his own, a self-fed spring,
Proves but a brook that glides away.
4 When Gideon arm'd his num'rous host,
The Lord soon made his numbers less;
And said, lest Israel vainly boast,
"My arm procur'd me this success."
5 Thus will he bring our spirits down,
And draw our ebbing comforts low,
That sav'd by grace, but not our own,
We may not claim the praise we owe.
|First Line:||The new-born child of gospel-grace|
|Title:||The new Convert humbled|
|Topic:||Convert: New humbled|