C. M.

I All hail the power of Jesus' name!

Let angels prostrate fall; Bring forth the royal diadem,

And crown Him Lord of all!

2 Crown Him, ye morning stars of light,
Who fixed this floating ball;

Now hail the Strength of Israel's might,
And crown Him Lord of all.

3 Crown Him, ye martyrs of our God,
Who from His altar call!
Extol the Stem of Jesse's rod,

And crown Him Lord of all.

4 Ye seed of Israel's chosen race,

Ye ransomed from the fall,

Hail Him who saves you by His grace,

And crown Him Lord of all.

5 Hail Him, ye heirs of David's line,
Whom David Lord did call;
The God incarnate, Man divine,
And crown Him Lord of all.

6 Sinners, whose love can ne'er forget,
The wormwood and the gall,
Go, spread your trophies at His feet,
And crown Him Lord of all.

7 Let every kindred, every tribe,
On this terrestrial ball,

To Him all majesty ascribe,
And crown Him Lord of all.

8 Oh that with yonder sacred throng
We at His feet may fall;
We'll join the everlasting song,
And crown Him Lord of all.

Rev. Edward Perronet, 1780.

Dr. John Rippon, 1787.

I Hark! the voice of love and mercy
Sounds aloud from Calvary;

See, it rends the rocks asunder,

Shakes the earth, and veils the sky:
"It is finished!"

Hear the dying Saviour cry.

2 "It is finished!"-oh, what pleasure
Do these precious words afford!
Heavenly blessings without measure
Flow to us from Christ the Lord.
"It is finished!"

Saints, the dying words record.

3 Finished all the types and shadows
Of the ceremonial law,-

Finished-all that God hath promised;
Death and hell no more shall awe:
"It is finished!"

Saints, from hence your comfort draw.

4 Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs,
Join to sing the pleasing theme;
All on earth and all in heaven
Join to praise Immanuel's name:
Hallelujah!

Glory to the bleeding Lamb!

Rev. Jonathan Evans, 1784.

ARIEL. C. P. M.

LOWELL MASON, 1835.

I Oh, could I speak the matchless worth,
Oh, could I sound the glories forth
Which in my Saviour shine!

I'd soar, and touch the heavenly strings,
And vie with Gabriel, while he sings,

In notes almost divine.

2 I'd sing the precious blood He spilt,
My ransom from the dreadful guilt
Of sin and wrath divine:
I'd sing His glorious righteousness,
In which all perfect heavenly dress
My soul shall ever shine.

3 I'd sing the characters He bears,
And all the forms of love He wears,
Exalted on His throne:

In loftiest songs of sweetest praise,
I would to everlasting days

Make all His glories known.

4 Well, the delightful day will come

When my dear Lord will bring me home,
When I shall see His face:

Then with my Saviour, Brother, Friend,
A blest eternity I'll spend,

Triumphant in His grace.

Rev. Samuel Medley, 1789.

PORTUGUESE HYMN. 11s.

JOHN READING, 1760.