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Not angels round the throne,
Of majesty above,

Are half fo much oblig'd, as we,
To our Immanuel's love.

They nevet funk fo low;
They are not rais'd fo high:
They never knew fuch depths of woe,
Such heights of majesty!

Lefs favor'd were the pow'rs,
Who in his Image stood :

Their crowns are cheaper far than our's,
Nor coft the Lamb his blood.

The Savior did not join

Their nature to his own:
For them he felt no pangs divine,
Nor breath'd a fingle groan.

May we with Angels vie,
The Savior to adore :

Our debts are greater far than theirs;

O be our payments more!

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The Deity and Humanity of Chrift.

RE the blue heav'ns were stretch'd abroad

With God he was; the Word was God,
And must divinely be ador'd.

By his own pow'r all things were made;
By him fupported all things ftand;
He is the whole creation's Head,
And angels fly at his command.

Ere fin was born, or fatan fell,
He led the host of morning ftars;
(Thy generation who can tell,

Or count the number of thy years?)
But lo, he leaves thofe heav'nly forms;
The Word defcends and dwells in clay,
That he may hold converfe with worms,
Drefs'd in fuch feeble flesh as they.
Mortals with joy beheld his face,
Th' eternal Father's only Son;
How full of truth! how full of grace!
When thro' his Eyes the Godhead shone!
Archangels leave their high abode,

To learn new, my ft'ries here, and tell
The love of our defcending God,
The glories of Immanuel!

122. L. M.


Chrift's Miracles.

BEHOLD, the blind their fight receive!

Behold, the dead awake and live!

The dumb speak wonders, and the lame
Leap like the hart, and bless his name.
Thus doth th' eternal Spirit own,
And feal the miffion of the Son;
The Father vindicates his cause,
While he hangs bleeding on the cross.
He dies; the heav'ns in mourning ftood:
He rifes; and appears a God:
Behold the Lord afcending high,
No more to bleed, no more to die!

Hence and for ever from my heart
I bid my doubts and fears depart;
And to thofe hands my foul refign,
Which bear credentials fo divine.

123. C. M.


Hofanna to Chrift,

OSANNA to the royal Son
Of David's ancient line!


His natures two, his perfon one,
Myfterious and divine.

The root of David, here we find,
And off-fpring, are the fame :
Eternity and time are join'd

In our Immanuel's name.

Bleft he that comes to wretched man,
With peaceful news from heav'n!
Hofannas, of the higheft ftrain,

To Chrift the Lord be giv'n.

Should we, dear Lord, refuse to take
Th' hofanna on our tongues,

The rocks and ftones would rife and break
Their filence into fongs.

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OSANNA to our conqu'ring King!
All-hail, Incarnate Love!

Ten thoufand thoufand glories wait

To crown thy head above.

Thy vict'ries and thy deathlefs fame,
Thro' the wide world fhall run;
And everlasting ages fing

The triumphs thou haft won.

In humble notes our faith adores
The great mysterious King;
While angels train their nobler pow'rs,
And sweep th' immortal ftring.


125. C. M.


OSANNA to the Prince of grace:
Sion, behold thy King;

Proclaim the Son of David's race,
And teach the babes to fing.

Hofanna to th' incarnate Word,
Who from the Father came ;
Afcribe falvation to the Lord,
With bleflings on his Name,


126. L. M.


OSANNA to king David's Son, Who reigns on a superior throne; We bless the Prince of heav'nly birth, Who brings falvation down to earth.

Let ev'ry nation, ev'ry age,
In this delightful work engage;
Old men and babes in Sion fing
The growing glories of her King.

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FRIEND there is your voices join,

A FRIENDts, tre rare his voice

Whose truth and kindness are divine,
Whofe love's a conftant flame.

When most we need his helping hand,
This friend is always near;
With heav'n and earth at his command,
He waits to answer pray'r.

His love no end or measure knows,
No change can turn its course;
Immutably the fame it flows

From one eternal fource.

When frowns appear to veil his face,
And clouds furround his throne,
He hides the purpose of his grace,
To make it better known.

And, if our dearest comforts fall
Before his fov'reign will,
He never takes away our all-
Himself he gives us ftill!

Our forrows in the fcale he weighs,
And measures out our pains;
The wildeft ftorm his word obeys,
His word its rage restrains!

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