Divinity back to his frame,

The life he had yielded restor'd,
And Jesus, entomb'd, was the same
With Jefus in glory ador'd.--
No nearer we venture than this,
To gaze on a deep fo profound ;
But tread, (while we tafte of the blifs,)
With rev'rence the hallowed ground.

COM

Chrift dying and rifing.

NOME tune, ye faints, your nobleft ftrains,
Your dying, rifing Lord to fing;

And echo to the heav'nly plains,

The triumphs of your Savior King.
In fongs of grateful rapture tell

How he fubdu'd your potent foes:
Subdu'd the pow'rs of earth and hell,
And, dying, finish'd all your woes.
Then to his glorious throne on high
Return'd, while hymning angels round,
Thro' the bright arches of the fky,

The God, the conqu'ring God, refound.
Almighty love, victorious pow'r! ·
Not angel-tongues can e'er-difplay
The wonders of that dreadful hour,
The joys of that illuftrious day.
Then well may mortals try in vain,
In vain their feeble voices raife;
Yet Jefus hears the humble ftrain,
And kindly owns our with to praife.

Dear Savior, let thy wondrous grace
Fill ev'ry heart, and ev'ry tongue,
'Till the full glories of thy face
Infpire a fweeter, nobler fong.

140. 8. WATTS'S L.

Chrift Dying, Rifing, and Reigning.

E dies! the Friend of finners dies!

Hot Salem's daughters weep around

A folemn darkness veils the fkies!

A fudden trembling fhakes the ground!
Come, faints, and drop a tear or two.
For him, who groan'd beneath your load;:
He shed a thousand drops for you,
A thousand drops of richer blood!

Here's love and grief beyond degree,
The Lord of glory dies for man!
But lo! what fudden joys we fee!
Jefus from death revives again!
The rifing God forfakes the tomb!
Up to his father's court he flies;
Cherubic legions guard him home,
And fhout him welcome to the kies

Break off your fears, ye faints, and tell
How high our great Deliv'rer reigns!
Sing how he fpail'd the hofts of hell,
And led the monster, death, in chains!
Say, Live for ever, wond'rous King,

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Born to redeem, and ftrong to fave!" Then afk the monfter, "Where's thy fting? "And where's thy vict'ry, boafting grave?"

UP

141 L. M. HART, altered.
The Refurrection of Chrift.

PRISING from the darkfome tomb,
See the victorious Jefus come!
The great Redeemer quits the pris'n,
And angels tell, "The Lord is ris'n."
Ye mourning faints, no longer grieve;
Hear the glad tidings, and believe:
God's holy law is fatisfy'd,

And Juftice, now, is on your fide.

In guilt's dark dungeon when ye lay,
Mercy cry'd "Spare," and juftice "Slay;"
But Jefus anfwer'd. "Set them free,
"And pardon them, and punish me."

Your Surety, now, before your God,
Pleads the rich ranfom of his blood;
No new demands, no bar remains,
But mercy, all triumphant, reigns.

Believers, bless your rifen Head,
The Firft-Begotten of the dead;
Your refurrection's fure thro his,
To endless life, and boundlefs blifs.

B

The Rifen Savior. por

LEST angels aid us with your fong,
To whom fublimer notes belong ;.
Your golden harps, and voices join,
To fing Immanuel's love divine.

Lo, he who on the cross was flain,
Enthron'd in glory lives again!
At once he burfts death's fatal bands,
In vain the pow'r of hell withstands.
With fongs of joy addrefs his name,
His vict'ries and his love proclaim;
Sing, how he conquer'd when he fell ;
And vanquish'd fin, and death, and hell.
We in his vict'ries fhall partake;
He gain'd thofe triumphs for our fake,
Immortal praises to the Lamb,

Who death, by his own death o'ercame.
Saints, fhout with joy your rifen Lord;
And spread his boundless love abroad.
Let ev'ry heart the Savior blefs,
And ev'ry tongue his name confess.

143.

Sevens. EVANS'S Col.

The Refurrection and Afcenfion of Chrif

ANGELS, roll the rock away,

Death, yield up thy mighty prey:

See! he rifes from the tomb,
Glowing with immortal bloom.
'Tis the Savior, angels, raise
Fame's eternal trump of praife;
Let the earth's remoteft bound
Hear the joy-infpiring found.
Now, ye faints, lift up your eyes,
Now to glory fee him rife,
In long triumph thro' the fky,
Up to waiting worlds on high..

Heav'n difplays her portals wide,
Glorious Hero, through them ride;
King of glory, mount thy throne,
Thy great Father's and thy own.

Praise him all ye heav'nly choirs,
Praife, and fweep your golden lyres ;
Shout, O earth, in rapt'rous fong,
Let the ftrains be sweet and ftrong.

Ev'ry note with wonder fwell,
Sin o'erthrown, and captiv'd hell;
Where is hell's once dreaded king?
Where, O death, thy mortal fting?

Hallelujah.

144. Sevens.

HART.

Another.

NHRIST is rifen from the dead!

CH

Rifen as his Church's Head:

He who did for fin atone,

Now is feated on his throne,

Heav'n its King congratulates,
Opens wide its golden gates:-
Angels fongs of triumph fing:
All the blissful regions ring...

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"Hail, thou dear almighty Lord!
Hail, thou great Incarnate Word!
"Thou alone the wine-prefs trod;
'Hail, triumphant Son of God!"