But the desert shall be glad,

And with verdure soon be clad.

Where the thorn and briar flourish'd,
Trees shall there be seen to grow,
Planted by the Lord and nourish'd,
Stately, fair, and fruitful too;
They shall rise on every side,
They shall spread their branches wide.

From the hills and lofty mountains
Rivers shall be seen to flow,
There the Lord will open fountains,
Thence supply the plains below;

As He passes, every land

Shall confess His powerful hand.

Thomas Kelly. 1809.

XLIV.

PSALM XCVIII.

Joy to the world, the Lord is come:
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare Him room,
And heaven and nature sing.

Joy to the earth! the Saviour reigns;

Let men their songs employ;

While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains Repeat the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground:

He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found.

E

He rules the world with truth and grace,
And makes the nations prove
The glories of His righteousness,

And wonders of His love.

Isaac Watts. 1709.

XLV.

Thus saith God of His Anointed;
He shall let My people go;
'Tis the work for Him appointed,
'Tis the work that He shall do ;
And My city

He shall found, and build it too.

He whom man with scorn refuses,
Whom the favoured nation hates,
He it is Jehovah chooses,

Him the highest place awaits;
Kings and princes

Shall do homage at His gates.

He shall humble all the scorners,

He shall fill His foes with shame; He shall raise and comfort mourners By the sweetness of His Name; To the captives

He shall liberty proclaim.

He shall gather those that wander'd ;
When they hear the trumpet's sound,
They shall join the sacred standard,
They shall come and flock around;
He shall save them,

They shall be with glory crown'd.
Thomas Kelly. 1809.

XLVI.

O for a thousand tongues to sing
My dear Redeemer's praise,
The glories of my God and King,
The triumphs of His grace!

My gracious Master and my God,
Assist me to proclaim,

To spread, through all the earth abroad,
The honours of Thy Name.

Jesus, the Name that charms our fears,
That bids our sorrows cease;

'Tis music in the sinner's ears,
'Tis life, and health, and peace!

He speaks, and, listening to His voice,
New life the dead receive;

The mournful, broken hearts rejoice,
The humble poor believe.

Hear Him, ye deaf; His praise, ye dumb, Your loosened tongues employ;

Ye blind, behold your Saviour come,

And leap, ye lame, for joy!

Charles Wesley. 1743.

XLVII.

How sweet the Name of Jesus sounds

In a believer's ear!

It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear!

It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast;
'Tis manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary rest.

Dear Name! the rock on which I build,

My shield and hiding-place,

My never-failing treasury, fill'd

With boundless stores of grace,

By Thee my prayers acceptance gain,
Although with sin defiled;

Satan accuses me in vain,

And I am owned a child.

Jesus, my Shepherd, Husband, Friend,
My Prophet, Priest, and King,
My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End,
Accept the praise I bring.

Weak is the effort of my heart,

And cold my warmest thought; But, when I see Thee as Thou art, I'll praise Thee as I ought.

Till then, I would Thy love proclaim
With every fleeting breath;

And may the music of Thy Name

Refresh my soul in death!

John Newton. 1779.

IV.

"And was Crucified for us under Pontius Pilate; He suffered, and was buried."

XLVIII,

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast
Save in the death of Christ, my God;
All the vain things that charm me most
I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Isaac Watts. 1709.

XLIX.

We sing the praise of Him Who died,
Of Him Who died upon the cross;
The sinner's hope let men deride.

For this we count the world but loss.