COLCHESTER.

C. M.

From Aaron Williams' Coll., cir. 1760.

Oh! 't was a joyful sound, to hear Our tribes de- vout-ly

“Up, Israel! to the temple haste, And keep your fes tal

say :

day!

PSALM 122.

1 OH! 't was a joyful sound, to hear Our tribes devoutly say :

"Up, Israel! to the temple haste, And keep your festal day!"

2 At Salem's courts we must appear,
With our assembled powers,

In strong and beauteous order ranged,
Like her united towers.

3 Oh! ever pray for Salem's peace;
For they shall prosperous be,
Thou holy city of our God!
Who bear true love to thee.

48.

(96.) 5 Peace be within this sacred place,
And joy a constant guest!

Nahum Tate, 1696.

PSALM 122.

1 How did my heart rejoice, to hear My friends devoutly say,

"In Zion let us all appear,

And keep the solemn day!"

2 I love her gates, I love the road;
The church, adorned with grace,
Stands like a palace, built for God,
To show his milder face.

3 Up to her court, with joys unknown,
The holy tribes repair;

The Son of David holds his throne,
And sits in judgment there.

4 He hears our praises and complaints ;
And, while his awful voice

Divides the sinners from the saints,
We tremble and rejoice.

With holy gifts and heavenly grace,

Be her attendants blest!

6 My soul shall pray for Zion still,
While life or breath remains ;

There my best friends, my kindred, dwell,
There God, my Saviour, reigns.

1 LORD! in the morning thou shalt hear
My voice ascending high;

To thee will I direct my prayer,
To thee lift up mine eye;—

(97.) 2 Up to the hills, where Christ is gone
To plead for all his saints,
Presenting, at his Father's throne,
Our songs and our complaints.

3 Thou art a God, before whose sight
The wicked shall not stand;
Sinners shall ne'er be thy delight,
Nor dwell at thy right hand.

4 But to thy house will I resort,
To taste thy mercies there
I will frequent thy holy court,
And worship in thy fear.

5 Oh! may thy Spirit guide my feet,
In ways of righteousness;
Make every path of duty straight,
And plain before my face.

Isaac Watts, 1719.

Welsh Air.

Lo! thy church waits, with long-ing eyes, Thus to be owned and blest.

1 ARISE! O King of grace! arise, And enter to thy rest;

(102.) 3 There shall I offer my requests,
And see thy beauty still;
Shall hear thy messages of love,
And there inquire thy will.

Lo! thy church waits, with longing eyes,
Thus to be owned and blest.

2 Enter, with all thy glorious train,
Thy Spirit and thy word;

All that the ark did once contain
Could no such grace afford.

3 Here, mighty God! accept our vows;
Here let thy praise be spread:
Bless the provisions of thy house,
And fill thy poor with bread,

4 Here let the Son of David reign,

Let God's Anointed shine;
Justice and truth his court maintain,

With love and power divine.

5 Here let him hold a lasting throne ;
And, as his kingdom grows,
Fresh honors shall adorn his crown,
And shame confound his foes.
Isaac Watts, 1719.

1 COME, Lord! and warm each languid heart,
Inspire each lifeless tongue,
And let the joys of heaven impart
Their influence to our song,

2 Then, to the shining seats of bliss,
The wings of faith shall soar,
And all the charms of paradise
Our raptured thoughts explore.

(108.) 3 There shall the foll'wers of the Lamb
Join in immortal songs;

And endless honors to his name
Employ their tuneful tongues,

4 Lord! tune our hearts to praise and love,
Our feeble notes inspire;

Till, in thy blissful courts above,

We join the heavenly choir.

Anne Steele, 1760.

Ear-ly, my God! without delay, I haste to seek thy face; My thirsty spir-it

With long desire my spirit faints, To meet th' assemblies of thy saints.

(119.) 2 Might I enjoy the meanest place
Within thy house, O God of grace!
Not tents of ease, nor thrones of power,
Should tempt my feet to leave thy door.
3 God is our sun, he makes our day;
God is our shield, he guards our way
From all th' assaults of hell and sin,
From foes without, and foes within.
4 All needful grace will God bestow,
And crown that grace with glory too;
He gives us all things, and witholds
No real good from upright souls.

1 How pleasant, how divinely fair,
O Lord of hosts! thy dwellings are!
With long desire my spirit faints,
To meet th' assemblies of thy saints.
2 My flesh would rest in thine abode,
My panting heart cries out for God:
My God! my King! why should I be
So far from all my joys, and thee?
3 Blest are the saints who sit on high,
Around thy throne of majesty;
Thy brightest glories shine above,
And all their work is praise and love.
4 Blest are the souls, who find a place
Within the temple of thy grace;
There they behold thy gentler rays,
And seek thy face, and learn thy praise.

5 O God, our King! whose sovereign sway
The glorious hosts of heaven obey,
And devils at thy presence flee;

Blest is the man that trusts in thee !
Isaac Watts, 1719.

60.

[road,

5 Blest are the men, whose hearts are se To find the way to Zion's gate;

God is their strength; and through the 1 COME, dearest Lord! descend and dwell,

They lean upon their helper, God.

6 Cheerful they walk with growing strength, Till all shall meet in heaven at length; Till all before thy face appear,

And join in nobler worship there.

By faith and love, in every breast;
Then shall we know, and taste, and feel,
The joys that cannot be expressed.

2 Come, fill our hearts with inward strength,
Make our enlarged souls possess,
And learn the height, and breadth, and
Of thine immeasurable grace. [length,
3 Now to the God, whose power can do
More than our thoughts or wishes know,
Be everlasting honors done,
By all the Church, through Christ, his Son.
Isaac Watts, 1709.