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3 He funk beneath our heavy woes,
To raife us to his throne:
There's ne'er a gift his hand bestows,
But coft his heart a groan.

This was compaffion like a God,
That when the Saviour knew
The price of pardon was his blood;
His pity ne'er withdrew.

5 Now though he reigns exalted high,
His love is ftill as great:
Well he remembers Calvary,
Nor let his faints forget.

6 Here we behold his bowels roll
As kind as when he dy❜d;
And fee the forrows of his foul
Bleed through his wounded fide.
Here we receive repeated feals
Of jefus' dying love :

7

Hard is the wretch who never feels
One foft affection move.

8 Here et our hearts begin to melt,
While we his death record,
And with ourjoy for pardon'd guilt,
Mourn that we pierc'd the Lord.

V. Chrift the Bread of Life. John vi. 31, 35, 39.

idote the uternal Word,

'Tis He our fouls has fed:

Thou art our living ftream O Lord,
And thou th' immortal Bread.

The manna came from lower skies,
But Jefus from above;

Where the fresh fprings of pleasure rife,
And rivers flow with love.

The Jews the fathers dy'd at laft,
Who ate that heav'nly bread;

But thefe provifions which we tafte,
Can raife us from the dead.

4 Blefs'd be the Lord who gives his flesh
To nourish dying men,

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And often spreads his table fresh,

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Left we fhould faint again.

Our fouls fhall draw their heav'nly breath,
Whilft Jefus finds fupplies;

Nor fhall our graces fink to death,

For Jefus never dies.

Daily our mortal flesh decays, But Chrift, our fife fhall come; His unrefifted pow'r fhall raise Our bodies from the tomb.

VI. The Memorial of our abfent Lord. Johu xvi, 16. Luke xxil. 19. John xiv. 3.

the skies,

JESUS is gone above fenfis reach him not;

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And carnal objects cour. our eyes,

To thruft our Saviour from our thought.

2 He knows what wan "ring hearts we have,
Apt to forget his lovely face;

And to refresh our minds he gave
Thefe kind memorials of his grace.

3 The Lord of life this table spread
With his own flesh and dying blood;
We on the rich provision feed,
And tafte the wine and blefs our God.
4 Let finful fweets be all forgot,
And earth grow lefs in our efteem;
Chrift and his love fill ev'ry thought,
And faith and hope be fix'd on him.
S Whilft he is abfent from our fight
"Tis to prepare our fouls a place
U a

That we may live in heav'nly light,
And dwell forever near his face.

6 Our eyes look upward to the hills
Whence our returning Lord fhall come ;
We wait thy chariot's awful wheels,
To fetch our longing spirits home.

VII. Crucifiction to the World by the Grofs of Chrift, Gal. vi. 14.

WHEN I furvey the wond'rous crofs

On which the Prince of glory dy'd,
My richest gain I count but lofs
And pour contempt on all my pride.
2 Forbid it, Lord, that I fhould boast,
Save in the Death of Chrift, my Ged:
All the vain things which charm me moft,
I facrifice them to his blood.

3See from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Dice'er fuch love and forrow meet?
Orthorns compose so rich a crown?
4 His dying crimfon, like a robe,
Spreads o'er his body on the tree;
Then am I dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.

5 Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a prefent far too small:
Love fo amazing, fo divine,

Demands my foul, my life, my all.

VIII. The Tree of Life,

COME, let us join a joyful tune

To our exalted Lord

Ye faints on high around his throne,
And we around his board.

While once upon this lower ground,
Weary and faint ye ftood,

What dear refreshment here ye found
From this immortal food

3 The tree of life, which near the throne
In heav'n's high garden grows,
Laden with grace bends gently down
Its ever-fmiling boughs.

4 Hov'ring among the leaves there ftands,
The fweet celeftial Dove,
And Jefus on the branches hangs
The banner of his love.

5 Tis a young heav'n of ftrange delight
While in his fhade we fit:
His fruit is pleafing to the fight,
And to the tafle as fweet.

6 New life it fpreads through dying hearts,
And cheers the drooping mind;
Vigor and joy the juice imparts,
Without a fting behind.

7 Now let the flaming weapon ftand,
And guard all Eden's trees:
There's ne'er a plant in all that land
Which bears fuch fruit as these.

8 Infinite grace our fouls adore

Whofe wond'rous hand has made This living branch of fov'reign pow'r To raife and Heal the dead.

IX. The Spirit, the Water and the Blood. 1 John, v. 6.

LET all our tongues bons

To praise our God on high,

Who from his befom fent his Son,
To fetch us, ftrangers nigh.

Nor let our voices ceafe
To fing the Saviour's name;

Jefus, th' Embaffador of peace,
How chearfully he came !
3 It cost him cries and tears
To bring us near to God:
Great was our debt and he appeare
To make the payment good.
4 My Saviour's pierced fide
Pour'd out a double flood;
By water we are purifi'd

And pardon'd by the blood. 5 Infinite was our guilt,

But He, our Prieft, atones;
On the cold ground his life was fpilt,
And offer'd with his groans.

6 Look upmy foul to him
Whole death was thy defert,
And humbly view the living ftream
Flow from his breaking heart.

7 There, on the curfed tree, In dying pangs he lies. ulfils his Father's great decree, And all our wants fupplies. 8 Thus the Redeemer came, By water and by blood; And when the Spirit fpeaks theme, We feel his witnefs good

While the eternal Thre Bear their record above, Then I believe he dy'd for me, And feal my Saviour's love.

[10 Lord, cleanfe my foul from fir,
Nor let thy grace depart :

Great Comforter! abide within,
And witnefs to my heart.]

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