4 [To the dear fountain of thy blood, Here let me wash my fpotted foul 5 Stretch out thine arm, victorious King, 6 A guilty, weak, and helpless worm, HYMN XCI. Common Metre. H, the delights, the heav'nly joys, Where Jefus fheds the brightest beams 2 Sweet majefty and awful love 3 [Princes to his imperial name Bend their bright fceptres down ; 4 Archangels found his lofty praise 5 Thofe foft, thofe bleffed feet of his, High on a throne of light they ftand, 6 His head, the dear majestic head, See what immortal glories fhine This is the Man, th' exalted Man, But, when our eyes behold his face, 8 [Lord! how our fouls are all on fire Our tongues rejoice in tunes of praise 9 And while our faith enjoys the fight, And with thy fiery chariots, Lord, HYMN XCII. Common Metre. The Church faved, and ber Enemies difappointed; or, De I SHOU liverance from Treafon. HOUT to the Lord, and let our joys Ye western skies, refound the noise Beyond the rifing fun. Thee, mighty God, our fouls admire; 3 Thy pow'r the whole creation rules, 4 Thy fcorn derides their feeble rage, 3 [Their fecret fires in caverns lay, But gloomy caverns ftrove in vain 6 Their dark defigns were all reveal'd; Praise to the Lord, who broke the fnare Their curfed hands had laid.] 7 In vain the bufy fons of hell Their fouls fhall pine with envious rage, 8 Almighty grace defends our land I HYMN XCIII. Short Metre. MY GOD, my life, my love, I cannot live if thou remove, 2 [Thy fhining grace can cheer 3 4 5 [The fmilings of thy face, How amiable they are! 'Tis heav'n to reft in thine embrace, [To thee, and thee alone, The angels owe their blifs; They fit around thy gracious throne; [Not all the harps above 6 Nor earth, nor all the sky, 7 Can one delight afford; 10 [To thee my fpirits fly, I With infinite defire ; And yet how far from thee I lie! HYMN XCIV. Common Metre. God my only Happiness. Pfalm lxxiii. 25. ΜΥ MY GOD, my portion, and my love, I've none but thee in heav'n above, 2 [What empty things are all the skies, There's nothing here deferves my joys; 3 [In vain the bright, the burning fun, 'Tis thy fweet beams create my noon; If thou withdraw, 'tis night, 4 And whilft upon my reftlefs bed Amongst the fhades I roll, If my Redeemer fhews his head, 5 To thee I owe my wealth, and friends, 6 How vain a toy is glitt'ring wealth, Or what's my fafety, or my health, 7 Were I poffeffor of the earth, And call'd the ftars my own; 8 Let others ftretch their arms, like feas, I And I defire no more. HYMN XCV. Common Metre. Look on him whom they pierced, and mourn. INF Hell and the Jews confpir'd his death, 2 Oh! the sharp pangs of fmarting pain When knotty whips, and jagged thorns, 3 But knotty whips, and jagged thorns, In vain I blame the Roman bands, 4 'Twere you, my fins, my cruel fins, Each of my crimes became a nail, And unbelief the fpear. "Twere you that pull'd the vengeance down Upon his guiltless head : Break, break, my heart-oh, burst, mine eyes, And let my forrows bleed. 6 Strike, mighty grace, my flinty foul, And deep repentance drown mine eyes |