S. M.

HYMN LXXIII.

[RICHARDS.]
Presentation in the Temple.
AI LL hail, thou great first born,

The holy head of man !
What floods of Grace roll on to view,

In mercy's glorious plan! 2 Thy fulness mankind are :

The temple, Lord, art thou :
Thy body comprehends the whole

Of Adam's tribes below. 3 In thçe, presented pure

Before the throne of God,
All nations there are made anew,

Of one life giving blood.
4. First born of Heav'n, of earth,

Of ev'ry creature, hail !
Born to redeem from death and hell,

Thy parpose cannot fail.
5
The skies

may

waste in flame ;
All fyítems melt away ;
The sun himself turn black as night;

And earth be lost to day ; 6 But thou shalt ftill remain,

Th' unchanging, Saviour God;
And as eternal ages roll,
Thy name shall be ador'd.
HYMN LXXIV. $. m. [RICHARDS1

Baptism in Yordan.
S Jordan rolls his wave,
Around Christ Jesus' head,

1

A

Methinks I see the Saviour's grave;
And Christ

among

the dead.
2 Shall death confine the Lord ?

Or hold the King of men ?
He bursts the tomb, he quits the grave,

And opes the Tyrant's den. 3 All glorious, see him rife

Triumphant, o'er his foes :
Against the dwelling of tlie strong,

Ariel, Jesus goes.
4 Hail, Judah's lion, hail !

The vict'ry, Lord, is thine :
And death fubdu'd; and hell itself

The prey to thee resign. 5. O, for a fong of praise,

Immortal as thy fame :
But Heav'n in folemn Glence kneels
Before th' Almighty Lamb.
HYMN LXXV.

[RICHARDS.]
Temptation in the Wilderness.
FOR
OR forty mystic days,

Unknown to man their length, Thy foe, the foe of God with man,

Exerted all his trength. 2 No finite mind can tell,

The conflicts of hole hours :
Nor oughi but infinite conceive

Of Satan's wily pow'rs.
3 Was it to wreathe thy brow

With vi&t’ry's bright'ning wreath ?

S. M.

To give thyself a royal crown

That thus thou fought's with death 4 No; surely no. For man

The combat was begun;
For man 'twas finith'd ; 'tis complete

For man the battle's won. 5 Eternal praise await,

Thy glorious, blested name;
Thou Captain of Salvation's hosts,
All suff'ring conq’ring Lamb.
HYMN LXXVI. 5. M. [RICHARDS.]

Preaching of glad tidings.
O CHRIST, what gracious words,

Are ever, ever thine ;
Thy voice is music to the soul,

And life and peace divine. 2 Geod, everlasting good,

Glad tidings full of joy,
Flow from thy lips, the lips of truth,

And flow without alloy.
3 The broken heart, the poor,

The bruis'd, the deaf, the blind;
The dumb, the dead, the captive wretch,

In thee compassion find.
4 Lord Jesus, speed the day,

The promis'd day of grace,
To all the poor, the dumb, the deaf,

The dead of Adam's race. 5 One fong shall then employ

The bleiled, bleffing whole ;

And human nature shout thy name,
The life of ev'ry soul.
HYMN LXXVII.

[RICHARDS.) Miracles of Christ. JESUS, we bless thy pow'r ;

Thy grace, we honor more ; Such love as thine, it must subdue

To worship, love, adore.
2 The blind, the dumb, the deaf,

A word, a touch relieves;
The wither'd arm, at thy command,

New strength, O Lord, receives. 3 Lepers, who long had groan'd

Beneath the weight of pain ;
The pallied limbs, the dying, dead,

Are all made whole again. 4 Legions of hell, obey

Thy dread, almighty word;
And Jew and Gentile dispoffeft,

Give glory to the Lord.
5 Come, great Physician, come ;

In fpirit, Chrift, display
Thy healing, cleaning, gracious powers,
And take ev’n death away.
HYMN LXXVIII.

[W] The Saviour's invitation. ! YE E scarlet color'd linners come ;

Jesus the Lord, invites you home; o whither can you go?

P. M.

What ! are your crimes of crimson hue? His promise is forever true,

He'll wash you white as snow.
2 Backsliding fouls fill'd with your ways,

Whole weeping nights and wretched days,
In bitterness are spent !
Return to Jesus he'll reveal
His lovely face, and sweetly heal
What

you

so much lament.
3 Tri'd fouls ! look up; he says 'tis I;

He loves you ftill but means to try
If faith will bear the test ;
The Lord has given the chiefest good,
He shed for you his precious blood ;.

O trust him for the rest !
4 Ye tender fouls draw hither too,

Ye grateful, highly favor'd few,
Who feel the debt you owe;
Press on, the Lord hath more to give ;
By faith upon him daily live,
And
you

shall find it so.
HYMN LXXIX. P. M. {RICHARDS. 1

Transfiguration on Mount Tabor.
S Jesus stood on Tabor's mound,

Celestial glory beam'd around,
And cloth'd the man, the God,
In lucid robes of spotless white ;
Whilst splendors of primeval light,
Loos'd day's unbounded flood.
More
pure

than Salmon's fleecy snow,
His whitning garments radiant flow :

I AS

2