-"Tis but the voice that Jesus sends, To call them to his arms.

o 2 Are we not tending upward too,
As fast as time can move?

Nor would we wish the hours more slow,
To keep us from our Love.

-3 Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?

o There the dear flesh of Jesus lay, And left a long perfume.

-4 The graves of all the saints he blessed, And softened every bed:

e Where should the dying members rest, But with the dying Head?

o 5 Thence he arose, ascended high, And showed our feet the way:

• Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly,
At the great rising day.

8 6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise;
Awake, ye nations under ground;

Ye saints, ascend the skies.

HYMN 4. L. M. Carthage. Pleyel's. [b]

Salvation in the Cross.

P1 HERE, at thy cross, my dying God,
I lay my soul beneath thy love!

Beneath the droppings of thy blood,
Jesus-nor shall it e'er remove.

-2 Not all that tyrants think or say,
With rage and lightning in their eyes,—
Nor hell shall fright my heart away,
Should hell with all its legions rise.

3 Should worlds conspire to drive me hence
Moveless and firm this heart should lie ;
Resolved, (for that's my last defence,)
If I must perish, here to die.

e 4 But speak, my Lord, and calm my fear.
Am I not safe beneath thy shade?

d Thy vengeance will not strike me here, Nor Satan dare my soul invade.

o 5 Yes, I'm secure beneath thy blood, And all my foes shall lose their aim;

o Hosanna to my dying God,

And my best honours to his name.

HYMN 5. L. M. Islington. [*]
Longing to praise Christ better.

1[ORD, when my thoughts with wonder roll O'er the sharp sorrows of thy soul,

And read my Maker's broken laws, Repaired and honoured by the cross :2 When I behold death, hell, and sin, Vanquished by that dear blood of thine; And see the Man that groaned and died, Sit glorious by his Father's side:o 3 My passions rise and soar above; u I'm winged with faith, and fired with love : o Fain would I reach eternal things,

And learn the notes that Gabriel sings e 4 But my heart fails, my tongue complains, For want of their immortal strains;

p And, in such humble notes as these, Must fall below thy victories.

-5 Well, the kind minute must appear, When we shall leave these bodies here,o These clogs of clay;-and mount on high, o To join the songs above the sky.]

1

HYMN 6. C. M. St. Ann's. [*]
A Morning Song.

NCE more, my soul, the rising day
Salutes thy waking eyes:

Once more, my voice, thy tribute pay
To Him who rules the skies.

o 2 Night unto night his Name repeats,
The day renews the sound;

g Wide as the heaven, on which he sits To turn the seasons round.

-3 'Tis he supports my mortal frame, My tongue shall speak his praise;

e My sins would rouse his wrath to flame,

And yet his wrath delays.

e 4 (On a poor worm thy power might tread, And I could ne'er withstand:

p Thy justice might have crushed me dead, But mercy held thy hand.

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5 A thousand wretched souls are fled,
Since the last setting sun;

-And yet thou lengthen'st out my thread,
And yet my moments run.)

e 6 Dear God, let all my hours be thine,
Whilst I enjoy the light:

• Then shall my sun in smiles decline, And bring a pleasant night.

HYMN 7. C. M. Hymn 2d. Wantage. [b] An Evening Song.

e 1 DREAD Sovereign, let my evening song,

Like holy incense rise;

Assist the offerings of my tongue,
To reach the lofty skies.

-2 Through all the dangers of the day,
Thy hand was still my guard;
And still to drive my wants away,
Thy mercy stood prepared.

o 3 Perpetual blessings from above
Encompass me around;

e But O how few returns of love
Hath my Creator found!

d 4 What have I done for Him, who died
To save my wretched soul?
How are my follies multiplied,

Fast as the minutes roll!

e 5 Lord, with this guilty heart of mine,
To thy dear cross I flee;

-And to thy grace my soul resign,
To be renewed by thee.

6 (Sprinkled afresh with pardoning blood,
I lay me down to rest,-

As in th' embraces of my God,

Or on my Saviour's breast.)

HYMN 8. C. M. St. Martin's. Sunday. [*] A Hymn for Morning or Evening.

HOSANNA, with a cheerful sound,

To God's upholding hand;

Ten thousand snares attend us round
And yet secure we stand.

e 2 That was a most amazing power,
That raised us with a word;

-And every day, and every hour,

We lean upon the Lord.

e 3 The evening rests our weary head,
And angels guard the room;

-We wake, and we admire the bed,
That was not made our tomb.

4 The rising morning can't assure,
That we shall end the day!
e For death stands ready at the door,
To seize our lives away.

e 5 Our breath is forfeited by sin,
To God's avenging law;
-We own thy grace, immortal King,
In every gasp we draw.

o 6 God is our sun, whose daily light
Our joy and safety brings;

Our feeble flesh lies safe at night,
Beneath his shady wings.

HYMN 9. C. M. Isle of Wight. Bangor. [*]

Godly Sorrow from the Sufferings of Christ.

P1A and did my Sovereign die?

LAS! and did my Saviour bleed?

Would he devote that sacred head,
For such a worm as I?

2 [Thy body slain, sweet Jesus, thine,-
And bathed in its own blood,

While, all exposed to wrath divine,
The glorious sufferer stood !]

3 Was it for crimes-that I had done-
He groaned upon the tree?—

a Amazing pity! grace unknown!

And love beyond degree!

e 4 Well might the sun in darkness hide, And shut his glories in,

When God, the mighty Maker, died

For man the creature's sin.

e 5 Thus might I hide my blushing face-
While his dear cross appears;
d Dissolve, my heart, in thankfulness,
And melt, mine eyes, in tears.

-6 But drops of tears can ne'er repay
The debt of love I owe;

o Here, Lord, I give myself away— 'Tis all that I can do.

HYMN 10. C. M. Dorset. Canterbury. [*]

1

Parting with Carnal Joys.

'M'And bids the world farewell;

soul forsakes her vain delight,

Base as the dirt beneath my feet,
And mischievous as hell.
2 No longer will I ask your love,
Nor seek your friendship more;
The happiness that I approve,
Lies not within your power.

o 3 There's nothing round this spacious earth,
That suits my large desire;

o To boundless joy and solid mirth My nobler thoughts aspire :

o 4 (Where pleasure rolls its living flood, From sin and dross refined;

g

Still springing from the throne of God,
And fit to cheer the mind.

5 Th' Almighty Ruler of the sphere,
The glorious and the great,
Brings his own all-sufficience there,
To make our bliss complete.)

o 6 Had I the pinions of a dove,
I'd climb the heavenly road;

There sits my Saviour dressed in love,
And there my smiling God.

HYMN 11. L. M. Munich. Carthage. [b]

0

The same.

1 SEND the joys of earth

Away, ye tempters of the mind, -False as the smooth deceitful sea, And empty as the whistling wind.

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2 Your streams were floating me along,
Down to the gulf of black despair;
And whilst I listened to your song,

Your streams had e'en conveyed me there.

-3 Lord, I adore thy matchless grace,
That warned me of that dark abyss;

That drew me from those treacherous seas,
And bade me seek superior bliss.