6 But, ah, how blind, how weak we are?
How frail, how apt to turn afide !
Lord we depend upon thy care,
We ask thy Spirit for our guide.
7 Thy fair example may we trace,
To teach us what we ought to be;
Make us, by thy transforming grace,
O Saviour, daily more like thee.
Hymn XV. Short Metre. [or]
Triumph over Death.
AND muft this body die ?
This mortal frame decay?
And must these active limbs of mine
Lie mould'ring in the clay ?
2 Corruption, carth and worms
Shall but refine this flefl,
Till my triumphant fpirit comes
To put it on afresh.
3 Chrift, my Redeemer, lives,
And often, from the skies,
Looks down and watches all my duft,
Till he fhall bid it rife.
4 Array'd in glorious grace,
Shall there vile bodies thine,
And every fhape, and every face
Look heavenly and divine.
5 Thefe lively hopes we owe
To Jefus' dying love;
We would adore his grace below,
And fing his power above.
6. O Lord, accept the praife
Of these our humble fongs,
Till tunes of nobler found we raife,
With our immortal tongues.
Hymn XVI. Common Metre. [or h]
A of my thort life is paft;
Α ND now, my foul, another year
I cannot long continue here,
And this may be my last.
2 Much of my dubious life is done,
Nor will return again;
And fwift my paffing moments run,
The few that yet remain.
3 Awake, my foul, with utmost care,
Thy true condition learn;
What are thy hopes? how fure? how fair? And what thy chief concern?
With the new year, which now begins,
Begin thy race for heaven;
Repent of all thy former fins,
Reform, and be forgiven.
5 Devoutly yield thyfelf to God,
To him thyfelf commend;
With zeal pursue the heavenly road,
Nor doubt a happy end.
Hymn XVII. All Sevens Metre. [*]
The Refurrection and Afcenfion of Chrift.
ANGELS, roll the stone away,
Death, give up thy mighty prey;
See! he rifes from the tomb,
Shining in immortal bloom.
2 'Tis the Saviour, angels raise
Your triumphant fong of praife;
Let the heavens' remoteft bound
Hear the joy infpiring found.
3 Now, ye faints, lift up your eyes,
Now to glory fee him rife;
Mark his progrefs through the fky,
To the radiant world on high.
4 Heaven difplays her cryftal gate;
Enter in thy royal ftate;
King of glory, mount thy throne,
'Tis thy Father's and thy own.
5 Praife him, all ye heavenly choirs,
Strike with awe your golden lyres;
Shout, O earth, in rapt'rous fong,
Let the ftrains be loud and ftrong.
6 To the lift'ning nations tell,
Sin o'erthrown and vanquish'd hell:
Where is death's once dreaded king
Where, O monfter, is thy fting!
Hymn XVIII. Long Metre. [or]
NOTHER fix days' work is done!
A Another Sabbath is begun!
Return, my foul, enjoy thy reft,
Improve the day that God has blefs'd.
2 Come, praife the Lord, whofe love affigns
So fweet a reft to weary minds;
Provides an antepat of heaven,
And gives this day the food of feven.
3 that our thoughts and thanks may rife
As grateful incenfe to the fkies;
And draw from heaven that fweet repose
Which none but he who feels it knows.
4 This heavenly calm, within the breaft,
Is the dear pledge of glorious rest,
Which for the church of God remains,
The end of cares, the end of pains.
5 With joy, great God, thy works we view,
In various fcenes, both old and new ;
With praise we think on mercies paft,
With hope we future pleasures taite.
6 In holy duties let the day,
In holy pleafures país away;
The Sabbath thus we love to fpend,
In hope of one which ne'er fhall end.
Six Line L. M. [orb]
God's Name proclaimed to Mofes.
TTEND, my foul, the voice divine,
And mark what beaming glories fhine
Around thy condefcending God:
To us, he in his word proclaims
His awful, his endearing names;
Attend, and found them all abroad.
2 "Jehovah I, the fov'reign Lord,
The mighty God by heaven ador'd,
Down to the earth my footsteps bend :
My heart the tendereft pity knows,
Goodnefs full ftreaming wide o'erflows,
And grace and truth fhall never end.
3 "My patience long can crimes endure,
My pard'ning love is ever fure,
When penitential forrow mourns:
To millions, through unnumber'd years,
New hope and new delight it bears,
Yet wrath against the finner burns.”
4 Make hafte, my foul, the vifion meet,
All proftrate at Jehovah's feet,
And drink the tuneful accents in.
Speak on, my Lord, repeat the voice,
Diffufe thefe heart-expanding joys,
Till heav'n complete the rapt'rous fcene.
Hymn XX. Common Metre. [or b]
TTEND, whilft God's exalted Son
Doth his own glories fhew;
"Behold I fit upon my throne,
Creating all things new!
2 "Old things are wholly pafs'd away,
And the firft Adam dies;
My hands a new foundation lay;
See the new world arife!
"I'll be a Sun of righteousness,
To the new heavens I make;
None but the new born heirs of
My glories fhall partake.”
4 Mighty Redeemer, fet me free
From my old ftate of fin;
O make my foul alive to thee,
Create new powers within.
5 Renew my eyes, and form my ears,
And mould my heart afrefh;
Give me new paffions, joys and fears,
And turn the ftone to flefh.
6 Far from the regions of the dead,,
From fin and earth and hell,
In the new world which grace hath made,
I would forever dwell.
Long Metre.
Glory in the Cross.
T thy command, our bleffed Lord,
Here we attend thy dying feast;
Thy blood, like wine, adorns thy board,
And thy own flesh feeds every guest.
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