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2 Life is the hour, that God has given To 'scape from hell, and fly to heaven; The day of grace, and mortals may Secure the blessings of the day.

3 There are no acts of pardon pass'd In the cold grave, to which we haste; But torment, horror, and despair

Shall meet remorseless sinners there.

4 Then, what our thoughts design to do, May we, with all our might, pursue; Since no device, nor work is found, Wisdom, nor grace beneath the ground.


1 HEAR what the voice from heaven proclaims,

For all the pious dead;

Sweet is the savour of their names,
And soft their sleeping bed.

2 They die in Jesus, and are blest,
How kind their slumbers are!
From sufferings and from sins releas'd,
And freed from every snare.

3 Far from this world of toil and strife,
They're present with the Lord;

The labours of their mortal life
End in a large reward.

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1 DREAD Jehovah! God of nations,
From thy temple in the skies,
Hear thy people's supplications,
Now for their deliverance rise.
Lo! with deep contrition turning,
Humbly at thy feet we bend;
Fasting, praying, weeping, mourning,
Hear us, spare us, and defend.

2 Though our sins, our hearts confounding,
Long and loud for vengeance call,
Thou hast mercy more abounding;
Jesus' blood can cleanse them all;
Let that mercy veil transgression,
Let that blood our guilt efface;
Save thy people from oppression,
Save from spoil thy holy-place.

3 Hear, O God, the vows we render;
With our hosts to battle go:
Shield the head of each defender,
And confound the haughty foe:
So, when ceased the battle's raging,
Thine shall be the victor's praise;
And, in holy bonds engaging,
We will serve Thee all our days,


Thanksgiving for Victory.


C. M.

1 ZION rejoice, and Judah sing,

The Lord assumes his throne:
Let Britain own the heav'nly King,
And make his glories known.

2 The Great, the Wicked, and the Proud, From their high seats are hurl'd; Jehovah rides upon a cloud,

And thunders through the world.

3 He reigns upon th' eternal hills,
Distributes mortal crowns;

Empires are fix'd beneath his smiles,
And totter at his frowns.

4 Let tyrants make no more pretence
To vex our happy land;
Jehovah's name is our defence,
Our buckler is his hand.



1 FATHER, we wait to feel thy grace,
To see thy glories shine;

The Lord will his own table bless,
And make the Feast divine.

2 We touch, we taste the heav'nly bread, We drink the sacred cup;

With outward forms our sense is fed,
Our souls rejoice in hope.

3 We shall appear before the throne
Of our forgiving God,

Dress'd in the garments of his Son,
And sprinkled with his blood.

4 We shall be strong to run the race,
And climb the upper sky;
Christ will provide our souls with grace,
He bought a large supply.


C. M.

1 COME let us lift our joyful eyes
Up to the courts above,

And smile to see our Father there
Upon a throne of love.

2 Once 'twas a seat of dreadful wrath,
And shot devouring flame;
Our God appear'd consuming fire,
And vengeance was his name.

3 Rich were the drops of Jesus' blood
That calm'd his frowning face,
That sprinkled o'er the burning throne,
And turn'd the wrath to grace.

4 Now we may bow before his feet,
And venture near the Lord;
No fi'ry cherub guards his seat,
Nor double-flaming sword.

5 The peaceful gates of heav'nly bliss
Are open'd by the Son;

High let us raise our notes of praise,
And reach th' Almighty throne.

6 To Thee ten thousand thanks we bring. Great Advocate on high;

And glory to th' eternal King,
That lays his fury by.


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