Whilft the rich blood of martyrs flain, 2 Let faith arise and climb the hills, To view his diftant chariot wheels, 3 Lo, faith beholds the scatter'd fhades ! 5 She hears the voice, "ye dead, arise !” And waking faints, with joyful eyes, 6 They leave the duft, and on the wing In fhining garments meet their King, 70! may we then among them stand, The meanest place at his right hand Hymn CXIII. WATTS. Common Metre. [orb] Pardoning Mercy. OW oft, alas! this wretched heart H Has wander'd from the Lord! How oft my erring thoughts depart, 2 Yet fov'reign mercy cries "return," O take the wanderer home. 3 And canst thou, wilt thou yet forgive; 4 Almighty grace, thy healing power 5 Thy pard'ning love, forever free, Lord, I devote myfelf to thee, Mrs. STEELZ. Long Metre. Dymn CXIV. The Gospel Feaft. WOW rich are thy provifions, Lord! The fruits of life o'erfpread the board; Lord, we are come with thee to dwell, To him, who pity'd finners loft! Hymn CXV. H Rich Treafure in earthen Veffels. The bleffings which thy gofpel brings, 2 Gold is but drofs, and gems but toys, 3 Yet all these treasures of thy grace 5 Such wonders power divine effects; His hand from crumbling duft erects Salisbury Collection Dymn CXVI. Common Metre. [b] The Frailty and Folly of Man. H How vaft our fouls' affairs! Yet foolish mortals vainly strive 2 Our days run thoughtlessly along, We pafs our lives away. 3 God from on high invites us home, 4 Draw us, O God, with fov'reign grace, That we may end this mortal race, WATTS ymn CXVII. Common Metre. [or] God's Fufice and Power. Job ix. 2, 10. OW fhould the fons of Adam's race If he contend in righteoufnefs, We fall beneath his rod. 2 To vindicate my words and thoughts, 3 Strong is his arm, his heart is wife, Again their Maker's power to rife, ་ 4 Mountains, by his almighty wrath, S Through the wide air, the mighty rocks He bids the fun forbear to rife, His hand with darkness spreads the skies, And rides upon the wind; No flesh can trace his wond'rous way, 8 Yet, mighty God, thy fov'reign grace The refuge of thy chofen race, When wrath comes rufhing down. Hymn CXVIII. H WATTS, varied. Com. Metre. [X or bl The Gospel Feaft. WOW fweet and awful is the place, 1With Chrift within the doors; Here everlafting love difplays The choiceft of her ftores! 4 Whilft all our hearts and all our fongs Join to admire the feaft; ३ Each of us fay, with thankful tongues, "Lord why was 1 a gueft? "Why was I made to hear thy voice, When thoufands make a wretched choice, |