Th' aftonifh'd Seraph bow'd his head,
And left the realms on high.

5 Made ftrong in ftrength renew'd from heav'n,
Jefus receives the cup as given;
Submifs, refign'd in all,

He drinks; nor leaves a dreg behind;
And bears away from human kind,
The wormwood mix'd with gall.

HYMN LXXXVI. S. M. [PEACOCK.].

The Lamb of God who beareth away fin.
HEN all mankind corrupt,

W Did from their maker stray,
Purfuing each the fatal road
That to deftruction lay.

With pity mol divine,

From his bright throne above
Did Jefus graciously defcend,
Borne on the wings of love.

3 Involv'd in guilt he found

The whole apoftate race;

Where fin and guilt did moft abound,
Still more abounds his grace.

4 While heirs of wrath we ftood,
To death and hell a prey;
To anfom fipners with his blood,
He gave his life away.

HYMN LXXXVII.

L. M.

[WATTS.]

Salvation, in Jefus, on the Crofs.
ERE at thy crofs, my dying God,
I lay my foul beneath thy love,

H

Beneath the droppings of thy blood, Jefus, nor fhall it e'er remove. 2 Not all that tyrants think or fay, With rage and lightning in their eyes, Nor hell fhall fright my heart away, Should hell with all its legions rife. 3 Should worlds confpire to drive me thence, Movelefs and firm this heart fhould lie; Refolv'd (for that's my laft defence) If 1 muft perish there to die.

4 But fpeak, my Lord, and calm my
Am I not fafe beneath thy fhade?
Thy vengeance will not ftrike me here,
Nor Satan dare my foul invade.

5 Yes, I'm fecure beneath thy blood,
And all my toes fhall loose their aim
Hofanna to my dying God,
And my best honors to his name.

fear

2 But life attends the deathful found,
And flows from ev'ry bieeding wound;
The vital fream how free it flows,
To fave and cleanfe his rebel foes!

3

To fuffer in the traitor's place,
To die for man, furprifing grace

9

HYMN LXXXVIII. L. M. [STRELE.]
The Death of the Lord of Glory.
TRETCH'D on the cross the Saviour dies;
Hark his expiring groans arife!
See, from his hands, his feet, his fide,
Runs down the facred crimson tide!

Yet pafs rebellious angels by ;

O, why for man, dear Saviour, why!

4 And didit thou bleed, for finners bleed ?
And could the fon behold the deed?
No, he withdrew his fick'ning ray,
And darknefs veil'd the mourning day.

5 Can I furvey this fcene of woe,
Where mingling grief and wonder flow;
And yet my heart unmov'd remain,
Infenfible to love or pain?

6 Come, dearest Lord, thy pow'r impart,
To warm this cold, this stupid heart ;
Till all its pow'rs and paffions move
In melting grief, and ardent love.

HYMN LXXXIX. L. M. [S. STENNET.] The Triumphs of the Dying Saviour. No more, dear Saviour, will I boast

Of beauty, wealth, or loud applaufe:
The world hath all its glories loft,
Amid the triumphs of thy cross,
2 In ev'ry feature of thy face,

Beauty her fairest charms displays;
Truth, wifdom, majefty and grace,
Shine thence in fweetly mingled rays.

3 Thy wealth, the pow'r of thought transcends, 'Tis vast, immense, and all divine ; Thy empire, Lord, o'er worlds extends; The fun, the moon, the stars are thine.

4 Yet, (O how marvellous the fight !) I fee thee on a cross expire ;

Thy Godhead veil'd in fable night,
And angels from the fcene retire.

5 But, why from these fad fcenes retreat
Why with your wings your faces hide?
He ne'er appear'd fo good, fo great,
As when he bow'd his head and di'd.
6 Thefe triumphs of ftupendous grace

Surprife, rejoice, and melt my heart;
Lord, at thy crofs, I ftand and gaze,
Nor would I ever thence depart!

HYMN XC. L. M.

[WHITEFIELD'S COLL.]

3

The Son of Man lifted up.

! HE

E dies! the friend of finners dies! Lo Salem's daughters weep around! A folemn darkness veils the skies! A fudden trembling fhakes the ground! Come, faints, and drop a tear or two, For him who groan'd beneath your load! He fhed a thousand drops for you! A thousand drops of richest blood! 2 Here's love and grief beyond degree, The Lord of glory dies for men ! But lo! what fudden joys we fee! Jefus the dead revives again! The rifing God forfakes the tomb ! The tomb in vain forbids his rife ! Cherubic legions guard him home, And fhout him welcome to the fkies! 3 Break off your tears, ye Saints! and tell How high our great deliv'rer reigns! Sing how he spoil'd the hofs of hell,

And led the monster death in chains :
Say, "live forever, wond'rous King!"
Born to redeem, and strong to fave!
Then afk the monster "Where's thy fting?
And where's thy vict'ry boasting grave?"?

HYMN XCI. L. M. [RICHARDS.]

The fword bathed in Heaven.

IWAKE thou my fword! Jehovah faid,
It woke, obey'd the high command;
And bath'd in blood on Jefus' head,
Smote down the Man of God's right hand.
2 Why leap'd the blade from mercy's fheath?
Why wrapt for flaughter gleam'd the fword,
That kills, and makes alive from death?
What rouz'd the vengeance of the Lord?
3 Stern juftice drew the weapon forth:
Soft mercy aim'd the mortal blow:
Then judgment paft on all the earth:
Now, truth a feal'd release can show.
4 All hail! great plan of plans divine!
First counfels of the mighty God!
Before all worlds this one defign,
Was grav'd on archives, writ in blood.

5 The heav'ns may perish; earth decay ;
Suns turn to night; and moons wax pale ¿
Th' Almighty love of Calv'ry's day;
The blood of Chrift can never fail.

6 What he began, ere time begun, Eternity fhall but complete;