5 Insatiate to this spring I fly;
I drink, and yet am ever dry;
Ah! who against thy charms is proof?
Ah! who that loves can love enough.

HYMN 47. C. M. [32]

PLUNG'D in a gulf of dark despair,
We wretched sinners lay,
Without one cheering beam of hope,
Or spark of glimmering day.

2 With pitying eyes the Prince of grace Beheld our helpless grief;

He saw, and (O amazing love!)

He ran to our relief.

3 Down from the shining seats above
With joyful haste he fled:
Enter'd the grave in mortal flesh,
And dwelt among the dead.

4 O for this love let rocks and hills
Their lasting silence break!
And all harmonious human tongues,
The Saviour's praises speak.

5 Angels assist our mighty joys,
Strike all your harps of gold;
But when you raise your highest notes,
His love can ne'er be told!

HYMN 48. C. M. [414]

MY Saviour, hanging on the tree,
In agony and blood,

Methought once turned his eyes on me,

As near his cross I stood.

2 Sure never till my latest breath, Can I forget that look;

It seemed to charge me with his death, Though not a word he spoke.

3 My conscience felt and own'd the guilt, And plunged me in despair;

I saw my sins his blood had spilt,
And help'd to nail him there!

4 A second look he gave, which said,
"I freely all forgive:
This blood is for thy ransom paid;
I die that thou mayst live!"

HYMN 49. L. M.

"TIS finished!"-so the Saviour cried,
And meekly bowed his head and died:
"Tis finished, yes, the race is run,
The battle fought, the victory won.

2 'Tis finished!—this his dying groan
Shall sins of deepest hue atone,
And millions be redeemed from death
By Jesus' last, expiring breath.

3 'Tis finished-Aaron now no more
Must stain his robes with purple gore;
The sacred veil is rent in twain,
And Jewish rites no more remain.

4 "Tis finished!-Heaven is reconciled,
And all the powers of darkness spoiled;
Peace, love, and happiness, again
Return, and dwell with sinful men.

5 'Tis finished!-let the joyful sound Be heard through all the nations round: "Tis finished!-let the triumph rise, And swell the chorus of the skies.

HYMN 50. L. M. [37]

HE dies! the Friend of sinners dies!
Lo! Salem's daughters weep around;
A solemn darkness veils the skies,

A sudden trembling shakes the ground:
Come, saints, and drop a tear or two,
For him who groaned beneath your load:
He shed a thousand drops for you,

A thousand drops of richer blood.
2 Here's love and grief beyond degree,
The Lord of glory dies for man!
But lo! what sudden joys we see:
Jesus, the dead, revives again!
The rising God forsakes the tomb;

(In vain the tomb forbids his rise ;) Cherubic legions guard him home,

And shout him "Welcome to the skies!" 3 Break off your tears, ye saints, and tell How high your great Deliv'rer reigns: Sing how he spoil'd the hosts of hell,

And led the monster death in chains! Say, "Live for ever, wond'rous King! Born to redeem, and strong to save!" Then ask the monster, "Where's thy sting?" And, "Where's thy victory, boasting grave?"

HYMN 51. L. M. [354]

NOW let our mournful songs record
The dying sorrows of our Lord,

When he complained in tears and blood,
As one forsaken of his God.

2 The Jews beheld him thus forlorn,
And shook their heads and laughed in scorn;
"He rescued others from the grave,

Now let him try himself to save."

3 But God, his Father, heard his cry; Rais'd from the dead, he reigns on high; The nations learn his righteousness, And humble sinners taste his grace.

HYMN 52. L. M. [38]

YE faithful souls, who Jesus know,
If ris'n indeed with him ye are,
Superior to the joys below,

His resurrection's power declare.
2 Your faith by holy tempers prove,
By actions show your sins forgiven;
And seek the glorious things above,
And follow Christ your head to heaven.
3 There your exalted Saviour see,
Seated at God's right hand again,
In all his Father's majesty,

In everlasting pomp to reign.
4 To him continu❜lly aspire,
Contending for your native place;
And emulate the angel choir,

And only live to love and praise.
5 For who by faith your Lord receive,
Ye nothing seek or want beside;
Dead to the world and sin ye live,
Your creature love is crucified.

6 Your real life with Christ conceal'd,
Deep in the father's bosom lies:
And glorious as your Head reveal'd,
Ye soon shall meet him in the skies.

HYMN 53. C. M. [320]

YE humble souls that seek the Lord,
Chase all your fears away;

And bow with rapture down to see
The place where Jesus lay.

2 Thus low the Lord of Life was brought; Such wonders love can do:

Thus cold in death that bosom lay,
Which throbbed and bled for you.

3 But raise your eyes and tune your songs, The Saviour lives again;

Not all the bolts and bars of death
The Conqueror could detain.

4 High o'er the angelic bands he rears
His once dishonor'd head;

And thro' unnumber'd years he reigns,
Who dwelt among the dead.

5 With joy like his shall every saint
His vacant tomb survey;
Then rise, with his ascending Lord,
To realms of endless day.

HYMN 54. C. M. [413]

THERE is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel's veins;
And sinners, plung'd beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.

2 The dying thief rejoic'd to see
That fountain in his day;
And there have I, as vile as he,
Wash'd all my sins away.

3 Dear, dying Lamb, thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,

Till all the ransom'd church of God
Be sav'd to sin no more.

4 Ere since by faith I saw the stream,
Thy flowing wounds supply,