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3 May love divine our feelings sway,
And all our actions sweetly guide;
And sin and guilt be done away,

Thro' Him that groan'd, and bled and died.
4 Awake, our souls, in sweetest lays,
Unite our noblest powers to sing,
And hearts and voices join to raise
The praise of Christ our sovereign King.

295. C. M. W. & B.

Asking for the Divine Presence. Psalm cxl. 13.

HOME, thou desire of all thy saints,
Our humble strains attend,

C

While, with our praises and complaints,
Low at thy feet we bend.

2 When we thy wondrous glories hear,
And all thy sufferings trace,
What sweetly awful scenes appear!
What rich unbounded grace!

3 How should our songs, like those above,
With warm devotion rise!

How should our souls, on wings of love,
Mount upward to the skies!

4 Come, Lord, thy love alone can raise
In us the heavenly flame;

Then shall our lips resound thy praise;
Our hearts adore thy name.

5 Dear Saviour, let thy glory shine,
And fill thy dwellings here,
Till life, and love, and joy divine,
A heaven on earth appear.

296. C. M. Doddridge.
Watching for soul's. Heb. xiii. 17

LET Zion's watchmen all awake,

And take the alarm they give;

Now let them, from the mouth of God,
Their awful charge receive.

2 'Tis not a cause of small import,
The pastor's care demands;
But what might fill an angel's heart,
And fill'd a Saviour's hands.

3 They watch for souls, for which the Lord
Did heavenly bliss forego;-
For souls which must for ever live,
In boundless bliss or woe.

4 All to the great tribunal haste,
Th' account to render there;

And shouldst thou strictly mark our faults, Lord, where should we appear?

5 May they that Jesus whom they preach, Their own Redeemer see;

And watch thou daily o'er their souls,
That they may watch for thee.

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Conclusion of Sabbath worship. ELCOME and precious to my soul,

W Are Sabbath-days of love;

But what a glorious rest remains
To be enjoyed above!

2 There, free from languor, pain, and sin,
Our weary souls shall rest,
With Jesus our exalted King,

And be for ever blest.

3 On these delightful, precious days,
My Lord I've often seen;
And feasting on his gracious word,
In raptures I have been.

1 O if my soul, when death appears,
In this sweet frame be found,-
I'll clasp my Saviour in my arms,
And leave this earthly ground.

298. C. M. Cowper.

The Mysteries of Providence. John xiii. 7.

G

NOD moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;

He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

2 Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,

He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sovereign will.

3 Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

4 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face.

5 His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

6 Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain ;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.

299. C. M. Hart.

The solemnities of death.

AIN men, your fond pursuits forbear!
Repent! your end is nigh:

Death, at the farthest, can't be far;
O! think before you die.

2 Reflect! you've each a soul to save;
Your sins, how high they mount!
What are your hopes beyond the grave?
How stands that dark account?

3 Death enters, and there's no defence;
His time there's none can tell;
He'll in a moment call you hence,
To heaven, or else to hell.

4 Your flesh, perhaps your chiefest care,
Shall crawling worms consume;
But, ah! destruction stops not there,
Sin kills beyond the tomb.

5 To-day the gospel calls, to-day;
Sinners, it speaks to you!
Let every one forsake his way,
And mercy will ensue ;-

6 Rich mercy, dearly bought with blood,
How vile soe'er he be;
Abundant pardon-peace with God,
All given entirely free.

300. S. M. W. & B.

Judgment is disarmed of terror by Faith ere the trumpet shakes

Now,

The mansions of the dead,

Hark, from the gospel's peaceful voice,
What joyful tidings spread!

2 Ye sinners, seek his grace,
'Whose wrath ye cannot bear,
Fly to the shelter of his cross,
And find salvation there.'

W

301. C. M. Wesley's Coll.

Lord, search our hearts!

E bow before thy gracious throne,
And think ourselves sincere ;

But show us, Lord, is every one
Thy real worshipper?

2 Is here a soul that knows thee not,
Nor feels his want of thee?

A stranger to the blood that bought
His pardon on the tree?

3 Convince him now of unbelief,
His desperate state explain;
And fill his heart with sacred grief,
And penitential pain.

4 Speak with the voice that wakes the dead And bid the sleeper rise!

And make his guilty conscience dread
The death that never dies.

5 He must believe in Christ, or die;
Repent and turn to thee,-

Or else in chains of guilt must lie
To all eternity.

THE PENITENT.

302. C. M.

False Hope destroyed,-a good one inspired.

M

sins and fears like billows rise,
And sweep my hopes away,
That prayers and tears will e'er suffice
My debt of sin to pay.

2 But while I see the Saviour's veins
Pour forth a purple tide,
My dying hopes revive again
Beneath his bleeding side.

3 Now let me to this fountain go
To wash away my sin;
The sacred streams that from it flow,
Can make the foulest clean.

4 Here, waiting at the pool I lie,
O speak the kind release;
Speak, gracious Saviour, ere I die,
And bid me go in peace.

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