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Crown him ye martyrs of our God,
Who from his altar call;
Extol the Stem of Jeffe's Rod,
And crown him Lord of all.
Ye chofen feed of Ifrael's race,
A remnant weak and fmall;
Hail him who faves you by his grace,
And crown him Lord of all.
Ye Gentile finners, ne'er forget
The wormwood and the gall;
Go-spread your trophies at his feet,
And crown him Lord of all.

Babes, men, and fires, who know his love,
Who feel your fin and thrall,
Now joy with all the hofts above,
And crown him Lord of all.

Let ev'ry kindred, ev'ry tribe,
On this terreftrial ball,
To him all majefty afcribe,

And crown him Lord of all.
O that, with yonder facred throng,
We at his feet may fall;

We'll join the everlasting fong,
And crown him Lord of all.

179.

L. M.

Steele.

The Great Phyfician.

YE mourning finners, here disclose

Your deep complaints, your various woes;

Approach, 'tis Jefus, he can heal

The pains, which mourning finners feel.

To eyes long clos'd in mental night,
Strangers to all the joys of light,
His word imparts a blissful ray;
Sweet morning of celeftial day!

Ye helpless lame, lift up your eyes,
The Lord, the Savior bids you rise;
New life and ftrength his voice conveys,
And plaintive groans are chang'd for praise.

Nor fhall the leper, hopeless lie
Beneath the great Phyfician's eye;.
Sin's deepest pow'r his word controls,
That fatal leprofy of fouls.

That hand divine, which can affuage
The burning fever's reftless rage;
That hand, omnipotent and kind,
Can cool the fever of the mind.

When freezing palfy chills the veins,
And pale, cold death already reigns;
He fpeaks; the vital pow'rs revive;
He speaks, and dying finners live.

Dear Lord, we wait thy healing hand;
Difeafes fly at thy command;
O let thy fov'reign touch impart

Life, ftrength, and health to ev'ry heart.

180.

C. M.

STEELE.

Pearl of great

Price.

YE glittring toys of earth, adieu,

A nobler choice be mine;

A real Prize attracts my view,
A Treasure all divine.

Be gone, unworthy of my cares,
Ye fpecious baits of fenfe ;-
Ineftimable worth appears,

The Pearl of Price immenfe !
Jefus, to multitudes unknown,
O Name divinely sweet!
Jefus, in thee, in thee alone,
Wealth, honor, pleasure meet.
Should both the Indies, at my call,
Their boafted ftores refign;
With Joy I would renounce them all,
For leave to call thee mine.

Should earth's vain treasures all depart,
Of this dear Gift poffefs'd;
I'd clafp it to my joyful heart,

And be for ever blefs'd.

Dear Sov'reign of my foul's defires,
Thy love is blifs divine;

Accept the wish that love inspires,
And bid me call thee minę.

181.

Sevens.

WHITEFIELD's Col.

Chrift the Sinner's Refuge.*

Jiets me to thy bofom fy,

ESUS, lover of my foul,

While the billows near me roll,
While the tempeft ftill is high!
* See also 260.

Hide me, O my Savior, hide,
"Till the ftorm of life is past ;
Safe into the haven guide;
O receive my foul at last.

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Other refuge have I none,-
Hangs my helpless foul on thee :
Leave, O leave me not alone!
Still fupport and comfort me.
my truft on thee is ftay'd;
All my help from thee I bring
Cover my defenceless head

All

With the fhadow of thy wing.

Thou, O Chrift, art all I want:
Ev'ry good in thee I find:

Thou canft cheer my foul when faint;
Eafe the anguish of my mind.
Juft and holy is thy name

I am all

unrighteousness:

Vile and full of fin I am

Thou art full of truth and grace.

Plenteous grace with thee is found-
Grace to pardon all my fin:
Let the healing fireams abound;
Let me feel them flow within:
Thou of life the fountain art,
Freely let me take of thee;
Spring thou up within my heart,-
Rife to all eternity!

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To the Redeemer.

O our Redeemer's glorious name,
Awake the facred fong!
his love (immortal flame!)

may

Tune ev'ry heart and tongue.

His love, what mortal thought can reach? What mortal tongue difplay? Imagination's utmoft ftretch

In wonder dies away.

He left his radiant throne on high,
Left the bright realms of blifs,
And came to earth to bleed and die !-
Was ever love like this!

He took the dying traitor's place,
And fuffer'd in his stead;

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For inan, (O miracle of grace!)

For man the Savior bled!

Dear Lord, what heav'nly wonders dwell
In thy atoning blood?

By this are finners fav'd from hell,
And rebels brought to God.

O may the sweet, the blissful theme
Fill ev'ry heart and tongue;

"Till ftrangers love thy charming name,
And join the facred fong.

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