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2 Tyrannic death, in vain thy rage,
Thy triumphs new in every age,

O'er the first heroes of his host;
Conscious of more than mortal aid,
Our bleeding hearts are not dismay'd,

But an immortal leader boast.

3 Though buried deep in dust they lie, Whose tuneful voices rais'd on high

Led the sweet anthems to his name; The children learn the father's song, And unform’d tongues shall still prolong

The ever-present Saviour's fame. 4 The present Saviour, he shall give Millions of future saints to live,

And crowd the temples of his grace:
The present Saviour, lo, he comes,
To call whole legions from their tombs,

And teach their dust sublimer praise.


132. Prayer and Hope of Victory. (L. M.) 1 N

COW may the God of pow'r and grace,

Attend his people's humble cry!
Jehovah hears when Isr'el prays,

And brings deliv'rance from on high. 2 The name of Jacob's God defends,

Better than shields or brazen walls;
He, from his sanctuary, sends,
Succour and strength when Zion calls.


3 Well he remembers all our sighs ;

His love exceeds our best deserts ;
His love accepts the sacrifice,

Of humble groans, and broken hearts. 4 In his salvation is our hope,

And in the name of Isr'el's God,
Our troops shall lift their banners up,

Our navies spread their flags abroad. 5 Some trust in horses train'd for war,

And some of chariots make their boast;
Our surest expectations are,

From thee, the Lord, of beav'nly hosts. 6 O may the mem'ry of thy name

Inspire our armies for the fight !
Our foes shall fall, and die with shame,

Or quit the field with shameful flight! 7 Now save us, Lord, from slavish fear ;

Now let our hopes be firm and strong,
'Till thy salvation shall appear,
And joy and triumph raise the song.


The Church's-Safety. (L. M.)
VOD is the refuge of his saints,

When storms of sharp distress invade ;
Ere we can offer our complaints,

Behold him present with his aid.
2 Let mountains from their seats be hurl’d,

Down to the deep, and buried there;
Convulsions shake the solid world,
Our faith shall never yield to fear.


3 Loud may the troubled ocean roar,

In sacred peace our souls abide;
While ev'ry nation, ev'ry shore,
Trembles, and dreads the swelling tide.

4 There is a stream, whose gentle slow

Supplies the city of our God:
Life, love, and joy, still gliding through,
And watring our divine abode.

5 That sacred stream, thine holy word,

That all our raging fears controuls ;
Sweet peace thy promises afford,
And give new strength to fainting souls.

6 Sion enjoys her Monarch's love,

Secure against a threatning hour;
Nor can her firm foundations move,
Built on his truth, and arm’d with pow'r.

134. On a Day of Humiliation for Disappointment

in War.

1 LO

ORD, hast thou cast the nation off?

Must we for ever mourn?
Wilt thou indulge immortal wrath?

Shall mercy ne'er return ?

2 The terror of one frown of thine,

Melts all our strength away ;
Like men that totter, drunk with wine,

We tremble in dismay.

s Great Britain shakes beneath thy stroke,

And dreads thy threatning hand :
O heal the island thou hast broke ;-

Confirm the wav'ring land. 4 Lift up a banner in the field,

For those that fear thy name ;
Save thy beloved with thy shield,

And put our foes to shame.
5 Go with our armies to the fight,

Like a confed’rate God;
In vain confed'rate pow'rs unite,

Against thy lifted rod.
6 Our troops shall gain a wide renown,

By thine assisting hand ;
'Tis God that treads the mighty down,

And makes the feeble stand.

135. National Judgments. (C. M.) 1 THE

"HE gathering clouds, with aspect dark,

A rising storm presage;
O! to be hid within the ark,

And shelter'd from its rage!
2 See the commission'd angel frown;

That vial in his hand,
Fill'd with fierce wrath, is pouring down,

Upon our guilty land !
3 May we, at least, with one consent,

Fall low before the throne;
With tears the nation's sins lament,

The church's and our own.


4 The humble souls who mourn and pray,

The Lord approves and knows;
His mark secures them in the day,

When vengeance strikes his foes.


Pleading with God for a guilty Land.

Gen. xviii. 23. (L. M.)

"REAT God! did pious Abr'am pray

For Sodom's vile abandon'd race?
And shall not all our souls be rous'd,
For Britain to implore thy grace?

2 Base as we are, doth not thine

eye Its chosen thousands here survey? Whose souls, deep humbled, mourn the crouds,

Who walk in sin's destructive way?
3 O Judge supreme ! let not thy sword,

The righteous with the wicked smite;
Nor bury in promiscuous heaps,

Rebels, and saints, thy chief delight. 4 Jesus the intercessor hear,

And for his sake thy grace impart,
Which, while it stops the fiery stream,
Dissolves the most obdurate heart.

5 Sodom shall change to Zion then,

And heavenly dews be scatter'd round,
That plant of paradise may spring,
Where baleful poisons curs’d the ground.

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