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406. P. M. 10 s.
1 HARK! what distant music melts
the ear! So sweet the tones, the symphonies so clear ! Some seraph sure has touch'd his golden lyre, And praise resounds through all the heavenly choir. Ye mortals, catch the soul-commanding sound; Learn the bless'd theme, and chant the chorus round.
2 O could our strains the rapturous notes combine,
Then should our grateful anthems pour along
The smoothing, swelling harmonies of song; And every breast would glow with Love Divine !
glow Most gracious God, thy humble suppliants hear;
Accept the tributary lays we bring : Thy power we own; thy majesty revere;
Thy, goodness celebrate; thy glories sing. And oh!
all in one grand concert raise To Thee hosannas of unceasing praise.
Sounding of the last Trumpet.
1 JESUS, all hail ! thou risen Saviour, hail ! At thy command the seventh trump shall sound, The sun retire, the moon, the stars turn pale, And heaven, and earth, and sea, no more be found.
2 Rous'd at thy word, the slumbering nations rise; The dead, who live not till the trump be blown, Lift up to Thee their supplicating eyes, And they who pierc'd Thee, weep at mercy's throne.
On all their sins the cleansing fountain rolls, Their robes are wash'd in thine all-saving blood; The Fount of Life supplies their thirsty souls, And every nation drinks the living flood.
4 Bath'd in the crimson stream of Love Divine, With tears of joy, in ecstasy, they cry: " The east, the west, the south, the north, are thine, From everlasting, thine, we shall not die.”
5 “ All souls are mine; all live to God in me, The first the last, the last the first proclaim; Jew, Gentile, Greek, barbarian, bond or free, Are one new man, and bear Immanuel's name.”
P. M. Praise. Rev. XV. 4. Psa. lxviii. 32. 1 THIS God is the God we adore,
Our faithful, unchangeable Friend, Whose love is as great as his power,
And neither knows measure nor end. 2 'Tis Jesus, the first and the last,
Whose spirit shall guide us safe home; We'll praise Him for all that is past,
And trust Him for all that's to come.
Praise to the Redeemer.
We wretched sinners lay,
Or spark of glimmering day.
2 With pitying eyes the Prince of Grace
Beheld our helpless grief;
He came to our relief.
With joyful haste he fled;
And dwelt among the dead.
Their lasting silence break,
The Saviour's praises speak. 3 Angels, assist our mighty joys,
Strike all your harps of gold;
His love can ne'er be told.
1 PRAISE ye the Lord ; let praise employ
In his own courts your songs of joy ;
Whose greatness all your praise exceeds. 2 Awake the trumpet's piercing sound,
To spread your sacred pleasures round;
Ye virgin train, with joy advance
And to the solemn organ sing. 3 Let the loud cymbal sounding high,
To softer, deeper notes reply ;
411. P. M. 8 s. 7 s.
The God of Mercy adored.
Bounteous source of every joy;
He whose word can all destroy!
Now the grateful tribute raise;
Join the universal praise.
Lowly bend with contrite souls;
Here no awful thunder rolls :
Mercy beaming from above. 3 Every secret fault confessing,
Deed uprighteous, thought of sin; Seize, O seize the proffer'd blessing,
Grace from God, and peace within!
Heart and voice with rapture swelling,
Still the song of glory raise; On the theme immortal dwelling,
Join the universal praise.
P. M. 7. 8. 6.
The dying Christian.
Quit, О quit this mortal frame !
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life!
Sister spirit, come away.
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath )
Tell me, my soul, can this be death? 3 The world recedes—it disappears !
Heaven opens to mine eyes! mine ears
O grave! where is thy victory?
413. C. M.
For Fast. Hos. vi. 4. 1 PERPETUAL Source of light and grace !
We hail thy sacred name;
Thy goodness is the same.