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C. M. 112

Christ precious.
THOU lovely source of true delight,

Whom I unseen adore ;
Unvail thy beauties to my sight,

That I may love thee more.
2 Thy glory o'er creation shines;

But in thy sacred word
I read, in fairer, brighter lines,

My bleeding-dying Lord.
3 'Tis here, whene'er my comforts droop,

And sins and sorrows rise-
Thy love, with cheering beams of hope,

My fainting heart supplies.
4 But ah! too soon the pleasing scene

Is clouded o’er with pain;
My gloomy fears rise dark between,

And I again complain.
5 Jesus, my Lord—my Life-my Light,

Oh come with blissful ray ;
Break through the gloomy shades of night,

And chase my fears away.
6 Then shall my soul with rapture trace

The wonders of thy loie:
Then shall I see thy glorious face

In endless joy above.

C. M.
Indebtedness to Christ.

JESUS! to thy celestial light,

My dawn of hope I owe;
Once wandering in the shades of night,

And lost in helpless wo.

2 Thy gracious hand redeemed the slave,

Ănd set the prisoner free:
Be all I am,and all I have,

Devoted, Lord, to thee.
Here at thy feet I wait thy will,

And live upon thy word :
Oh! give me warmer love and zeal,
To serve my dearest Lord.

L. M. 114

Thankfulness and Praise for Salvation.
LET sinners såved give thanks, and sing

Of mercies past—of joys to come:
The Lord their Saviour is, and King;
The cross their hope, and heaven their

2 Let sinners saved give thanks, and sing ;

Salvation theirs, and of the Lord;
They draw from heaven's eternal spring,

The living God their great reward.
3 Let sinners saved give thanks, and sing,

Of Jesus sing, through all their days:
In heaven their golden harps they'll string,

And there forever sing his praise. 115

Not ashamed of Christ.
JESUS! and shall it ever be-
A mortal man ashamed of thee?
Ashamed of thee-whom angels praise ?
Whose glories shine through endless days?
2 Ashamed of Jesus?—that dear friend

On whom my hopes of heaven depend?
No!-when I blush, be this my shame-
That I no more revere his name.

L. M.

3 Ashamed of Jesus?-yes, I may,

When I've no guilt to wash away-
No tear to wipe—no good to crave,

No fears to quell—no soul to save ! 4 Till then—nor is my boasting vain

Till then, I boast a Saviour slain!
And oh! may this my glory be-
That Christ is not ashamed of me!

C. M. 116

Not ashamed of Christ.
I'M not ashamed to own my Lord,

Or to defend his cause;
Maintain the honor of his word,

The glory of his cross.
2 Jesus, my God !—I know his name-

His name is all my trust;
Nor will he put my soul to shame,

Nor let my hope be lost. 3 Firm as his throne-his promise stands,

And he can well secure
What I've committed to his hands,

Till the decisive hour. 4 Then will he own my worthless name

Before his Father's face, And in the new Jerusalem

Appoint my soul a place.

C. M. 117

The Ingratitude of rejecting Christ.
AND will the Lord thus condescend

To visit sinful worms?
Thus at the door shall mercy stand,

In all her winning forms?

2 Surprising grace !_and shall my heart

Unmoved and cold remain ? Has it no soft-no tender part ?

Must mercy plead in vain ? 3 Shall Jesus for admission sue,

His charming voice unheard ?
And shall my heart, his rightful due,

Rernain forever barred? 4 Dear Lord, exert thy conquering grace;

Thy mighty power display:
One beam of glory from thy face
Can melt my sin away.

8s & 7s. 118

Rejoicing before the Cross.
SWEET the moments, rich in blessing,

Which before the cross I spend;
Life, and health, and peace possessing,

From the sinner's dying Friend. 2 Truly blessed is this station,

Low before his cross to lie;
While I see divine compassion

Beaming in his gracious eye.
3 Love and grief my heart dividing,

With my tears his feet I'll bathe;
Constant still, in faith abiding,

Life deriving from his death. 4 May I still enjoy this feeling, Still to


Prove his wounds each day more healing,

And himself more truly know. 119

L. M.
WHEN I survey the wondrous cross,

On which the Prince of glory died,

8s & 7s.

My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride. 2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,

Save in the death of Christ, my God; All the vain things that charm me most,

I sacrifice them to his blood. 3 See from his head—his hands—his feet,

Sorrow and love flow mingled down! Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so rich a crown! 4 Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were a present far too small; Love so amazing-so divine,

Demands my soul-my life—my all. 120

Praise to Christ, the Author of Salvation. 1 CROWN his head with endless blessing,

Who, in God the Father's name, With compassion never ceasing,

Comes, salvation to proclaim! 2 Lo! Jehovah, we adore thee!

Thee, our Saviour !—thee, our God!
From thy throne, let beams of glory

Shine through all the world abroad. 3 Jesus, thee our Saviour hailing,

Thee our God in praise we own; Highest honors, never failing,

Rise eternal round thy throne.
4 Now, ye saints, his power confessing,

In your grateful strains adore;
For his mercy, never ceasing,
Flows, and flows for evermore.

Hallelujah, Amen.

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