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4 These ears, that pleas'd cou'd entertain The midnight oath, the luftful strain,
When round the feftal board;
5 Thus art thou ferv'd in ev'ry part ; And now thou doft transform my heart, That drofly thing refine:
Now grace doth nature's ftrength controul,
122. THE SAME.
OFT I reflect upon thy grace,
With tears of thankfulness, Which call'd me from my native place, The world's wide wilderness.
2 My precious time I vainly spent,
3 Thick darkness overspread my mind, I ftumbled in the night;
All my affections were inclin'd
4 GOD faw me in this wretched cafe, A flave to bafe defire;
And by an act of fpecial grace,
5 O may a sense of mercies paft,
THE BELIEVER'S HOPE.
HE is a GoD of fov'reign love,
2 Prepare me, LORD, for thy right hand; Then come the joyful day!
Come death and fome celestial band,
To bear my foul away.
3 Then, my Beloved, take
4 GOD has laid up in heav'n for me
5 Nor hath the King of
PSALM CXIX. VERSE 158.
ARISE, my tend'reft thoughts, arife, To torrents melt my streaming eyes! And thou, my heart, with anguish feel Those evils, which thou canst not heal! 2. See human nature funk in shame!
See scandals pour'd on JESU's name!
See the short course of vain delight
4 My God, I feel the mournful scene;
5 But feeble my compaffion proves,
And can but weep where most it loves; Thine own all-faving arm employ, And turn thofe drops of grief to joy.
A Charge to keep I have,
2 To ferve the present age,
O may it all my pow'rs engage,
3 Arm me with jealous care,
4 Help me to watch and pray,
And let me ne'er my truft betray,
FAITH IN CHRIST OUR SACRIFICE.
NOT all the blood of beasts
Cou'd give the guilty confcience peace,
2 But CHRIST, the heav'nly Lamb,
A facrifice of nobler name,
3 My faith would lay its hand On that dear head of thine, While like a penitent I ftand,
And there confefs my fin. 4 My foul looks back to fee
The burdens thou didft bear, When hanging on the curfed tree, And hopes her guilt was there.
5 Believing we rejoice
To fee the curfe remove;
We blefs the Lamb with chearful voice, And fing his bleeding love.
HYMN 127. A SONNET.
2 Sing of his dying love,