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5 Shout, ye nations of the earth,
Sing the triumphs of his birth;
All the world by him is bleft,
Sound his praife from eaft to weft :
Jews and Gentiles jointly fing,
CHRIST Our common LORD and King;
CHRIST our life, our joy, our fong,
To eternity prolong.

HYMN

I

337.

COME

OME, thou long expected JESUS!
Born to fet thy people free;
From our fears and fins release us,
Let us find our reft in thee!
Ifrael's ftrength and confolation,

Hope of all the earth thou art;
Dear Defire of ev'ry nation,

Joy of ev'ry longing heart! 2 Born thy people to deliver,

Born a Child, and yet a King;
Born to reign in us for ever,

Now thy gracious kingdom bring!
By thine own eternal Spirit

Rule in all our hearts alone ;.
By thine all-fufficient merit,
Raise us to thy glorious throne.

THE SAME.

HYMN 338.

1 Sovereign grace has power alone

To fubdue a heart of ftone;
And the moment grace is felt,
Then the hardest heart will melt.
2 When the LORD was crucify'd,

Two tranfgreffors with him dy'd;
One with vile blafpheming tongue
Scoff'd at JESUs as he hung.

3 Thus he spent his wicked breath
In the very jaws of death
Perifh'd, as too many do,
With the Saviour in his view.

;

4 But the other, touch'd with grace, Saw the danger of his cafe;

Faith receiv'd to own the LORD,

Whom the Scribes and Priests abhorr'd.

(6

5 LORD, he pray'd-remember me,
"When in glory thou shalt be;"
"Soon with me, the LORD replies,
"Thou shalt be in Paradife."
6 This was wondrous grace indeed,
Grace vouchfaf'd in time of need.
Sinners, truft in JESU's name,
You fhall find him ftill the fame.
7 But beware of unbelief,

Think upon the harden'd thief:
If the gospel you difdain,
CHRIST to you will die in vain.

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I

HYMN

SICKNESS, OR DIVINE, CORRECTION.

H ow happy the forrowful man,
Whofe forrow is fent from above!
Indulg'd with a vifit of pain,

Chaftis'd by omnipotent love:
The Author of all his distress,

339.

He comes by affliction to know;
And God he in heaven fhall blefs
That ever he fuffer'd' belów.

2 Thus, thus may I happily grieve,
And hear the intent of his rod,
The marks of adoption receive,

The ftrokes of a merciful God;
With nearer access to his throne,

My burden of folly confefs,
The cause of my miferies own,
And cry for an answer of peace.
3 O Father of mercies, on me,
On me in affliction beftow.
A pow'r of applying to thee,
A fanctify'd ufe of my wo:
I would in a Spirit of prayer
To all thy appointments fubmit;
The pledge of my happiness bear,
And joyfully die at thy feet.

4 Then, Father, and never till then,
I all the felicity prove,
Of living a moment in pain,
Of dying in JESUS's love:
A fufferer here with my LORD,

I

With JESUS above I fit down,
Receive an eternal reward,

And glory obtain in a crown.

HYMN

340.

A FUNERAL HYMN.

AH! lovely appearance of death,
No fight upon earth is so fair;
Not all the gay pageants that breathe,
Can with a dead body compare ;
With folemn delight I furvey

The corps when the spirit is fled,
In love with the beautiful clay,

And longing to lie in its ftead.

2 How bleft is our brother, bereft

Of all that could burden his mind;
How eafy the foul that hath left

The wearifome body behind!
Of evil incapable thou,

Whose relics with envy I fee;
No longer in mifery now,
No longer a finner like me.

3 This earth is affected no more

With fickness, or fhaken with pain; The war in the members is o'er,

And never shall vex him again:
No anger henceforward, or fhame,
Shall redden this innocent clay,
Extinct is the animal flame,

And paffion is vanish'd away..

4 This languishing head is at reft,
Its thinking and aching are o'er;
This quiet immoveable breast

Is heav'd by affliction no more;
This heart is no longer the feat

Of trouble and torturing pain;'
It ceases to flutter and beat,

It never fhrall flutter again::

5

The lids he fofeldom could clofe,
By forrow forbidden to fleep,
Seal'd up in eternal repofe,

Have strangely forgotten to weep:
The fountains can yield no fupplies,

Thefe hollows from water are free; The tears are all wip'd from thefe eyes,, And evil they never-fhall fee..

6: To mourn and to fuffer is mine,
While bound, in a prifon I breathe;
And still for deliverance pine,
And prefs to the iffues of death:

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