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4 Cleanfe me, O LORD, and chear my foul
With thy forgiving love;
O make my broken spirit whole,
And bid my fins remove.

5 Let not thy Spirit quite depart,
Nor drive me from thy face;
Create anew my vicious heart,
And fill it with thy grace.

6 Then will I make thy mercy known
Before the fons of men;
Backfliders fhall address thy throne,
And turn to GoD again.

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To thee, against myfelf, to thee,

A worm of earth I cry:
An half-awaken'd child of man,
An heir of endless blifs or pain,
A finner born to die. 177
101cn. dis

2 Lo! on a narrow neck of land,
'Twixt two unbounded feas I ftand,
Secure infenfible!


A point of time, a moment's fpace,
Removes me to that heav'nly place,
Or fhuts me up in hell,

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3 O GOD, mine inmost foul convert!
And deeply on my thoughtful heart
Eternal things imprefs;
Give me to feel their folemn weight,
And tremble on the brink of fate,
And 'wake to righteoufnefs.


Before me place in dread array,
The pomp of that tremendous day,
When thou with clouds fhalt come,
To judge the nations at thy bar,
And tell me, LORD, fhall I be there,
To meet a joyful doom!

5 Be this my great one bus'nefs here,
With ferious industry and fear,
My future blifs t'enfure!
Thine utmost counsel to fulfil,
And fuffer all thy righteous will,
And to the end endure.

6 Then, Saviour, then my foul receive,
Transported from the vale, to live
And reign with thee above;
Where faith is fweetly loft in fight,
And hope in full fupreme delight,
And everlasting love.


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HYMN 53.



H ARK! my foul, it is the LORD! 'Tis thy Saviour, hear his word; JESUS fpeaks, and speaks to thee, Say, poor finner, lov'ft thou me! 2 I deliver'd thee, when bound,

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And when wounded, heal'd thy wound;
Sought thee wand'ring, fet thee right,
Turn'd thy darkness into light.


Can a woman's tender care
Ceafe toward the child fhe bare?
Yes, the may forgetful be,
Yet will I remember thee.
4 Mine is an unchanging love,

Higher than the heights above,
Deeper than the depths beneath,
Free and faithful, strong as death.
5 Thou fhalt fee my glory fooh,
When the work of grace is done
Partner of my throne fhalt be,
Say, poor finner, lov'st thou me ?

6 LORD, it is my chief complaint,
That my love is weak and faint ;
Yet I love thee, and adore,
O for grace to love thee more!



HYMN 54.



WEET was the hour, the minutes sweet,
When my Beloved me did meet,
His death to evidence :

My heart, which wounded was before, Kindly he bound; therein did pour Love's healing quinteffence.

2 Death's heritage he then laid waste, And calm'd each ftormy furious blast, And cancel'd all my fins; Placing his cross before my eyes, "Look to me, and be fav'd," he cries, From death thy life begins.


Sweet was the feast my heart enjoy'd,
I ate, I drank, nor was I cloy'd,
For more I thirfted ftill:
Here let me stay, I longing pray'd,
Sure this is Achor's vale, I faid,

Or holy Tabor's hill.

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4 His left hand under me was plac'd,
And his right hand my foul embrac'd,
His kindness fweet did prove :
Safely. I fat beneath his fhade,
Quite round my foul he overspread
His canopy of love.

5 I fung, affur'd of JESU's love,
Refresh'd with manna from above,
For flesh no more I cry'd:
Warm'd with the fun's enliv'ning beams,
I laid me down at Shiloh's ftreams,
Content and fatisfy'd.

6 Untouch'd by Satan's envious crew,
Upon my fleece, like drops of dew,
His free grace did descend :
Strangers in vain attempt to tell
The joy immenfe, unspeakable,
I found in CHRIST my friend.
7 Thus freed from bondage, I did prove
The sweets of his redeeming love,
And bafk'd in funny beams :
In this sweet frame may I rejoice,
Still hearken to my Saviour's voice,
Still drink thofe living ftreams!



That thro' thy tedious toil and fmart,
My foul may happy be.




Deareft LORD, give me an heart
Inflam'd with love to thee;

2 I want, O LORD, from fin to flee,
And in thy wounds to rest;
Bid me by faith come near to thee,
And lean upon thy breast.

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