So New-Born Babes Desire the Breast

So new-born babes de­sire the breast

To feed

and grow

and thrive;

So saints with joy the Gos­pel taste

And by the Gos­pel live.

With in­ward gust their heart ap­proves

All that the Word re­lates;

They love the man their Fa­ther loves

And hate the works He hates.

Not all the flat­ter­ing baits on earth

Can make them slaves to lust;

They can’t for­get their heav­en­ly birth

Nor gro­vel in the dust.

Not all the chains that ty­rants use

Shall bind their souls to vice;

Faith

like a con­quer­or

can pro­duce

A thou­sand vic­tories.

Grace

like an un­cor­rupt­ed seed

Abides and reigns with­in;

Immortal prin­ci­ples for­bid

The sons of God to sin.

Not by the ter­rors of a slave

Do they per­form His will;

But with the nob­lest pow­ers they have

His sweet com­mands ful­fill.

They ac­cess find at ev­ery hour

To God with­in the veil;

Hence they de­rive a quick­en­ing pow­er

And joys that nev­er fail.

O hap­py souls! O glo­ri­ous state

Of ov­erflow­ing grace;

To dwell so near their Fa­ther’s seat

And see His love­ly face!

Lord

I ad­dress Thy heav­en­ly throne;

Call me a child of Thine;

Send down the Spir­it of Thy Son

To form my heart div­ine.

There shed Thy choic­est loves abroad

And make my com­forts strong:

Then shall I say

My Fa­ther God!

With an un­wav­er­ing tongue.