183. L. M.

PEACOCK.

The Price of our Redemption.

TOT all the treasures earth can boaft,

N. Not all the coftlieft gems that shine;

Could e'er redeem a finner loft,
Could e'er atone the wrath divine.

It was before all worlds decreed
The spotlefs Lamb of God must bleed;
Behold on the appointed day,
Jefus his wond'rous grace display.

Swift on the wings of heav'nly love,
See him defcend from worlds above;
See him almighty wrath atone,
And for our life gives up his own.

Behold he from the grave revives,
And now with God his Father lives;
Glory his facred head adorns,

Once wounded and beset with thorns.

Now crown'd with rays of majesty,
Th afcended Savior reigns on high;
Both heav'n and earth his empire own,
By God exalted to his throne.

184. C. M.

NEWTON.

Chrift the Refuge, River, Rock, Sc.

H

E who on earth as man was known,
And bore our fins and pains;

Now, feated on th' eternal throne,
The God of glory reigns.

His hands the wheels of nature guide
With an unerring skill;

And countless worlds extended wide,
Obey his fov'reign will.

While harps unnumber'd found his praife,
In yonder world above;
His faints on earth admire his ways,
And glory in his love.

His righteoufness, to faith reveal'd,
Wrought out for guilty worms;
Affords a hiding-place and fhield,
From enemies and storms.

This land, thro' which his pilgrims go,
Is defolate and dry;

But ftreams of grace from him o'erflow
Their thirst to fatisfy.

When troubles like a burning fun,
Beat heavy on their head;
To this almighty Rock they run,
And find a pleasing shade.

How glorious he! how happy they
In fuch a glorious friend!
Whose love fecures them all the way,
And crowns them at the end.

185. S. M.

.Chrift our Ransom, &c.

OW dreadful was the hour

How

When God our wand'rings laid,

And did at once his vengeance pour,
Upon the Shepherd's head!

How glorious was the grace,
When Chrift fuftain'd the stroke!
His life and blood the Shepherd pays,
A ransom for the flock.

His honor and his breath
Were taken both away;

Join'd with the wicked in his death,
And deem'd as vile as they.

But God hath rais'd his head
O'er all the fons of men :
The glory of the chosen seed
Shall recompence his pain.

A

186. HILL'S Col.

Chrift our ranfom and Surety.

LL ye that pafs by,

To Jefus draw nigh,

To you is it nothing that Jesus should die ?

Our ransom and peace,

Our furety he is,

Come, fee if there ever was forrow like his.

The Lord, in the day

Of his anger, did lay

Our fins on the Lamb, and he bore them away:

He dy'd to atone

For fins not his own:

The Father hath punish'd for us his dear Son.

Come, lift up your eyes,

At Jefus's cries,

Behold how he suffers! how patient he dies!

For finners like me

He dy'd on the tree;

His death is accepted, the finner is free.

O may we approve

This wonderful love!

A wonder to all, both below and above!

Love mov'd him to die;

This therefore we cry,

Our Jefus has lov'd us, we cannot say why.

But this we can tell,

He lov'd us fo well,

By lofing his life he redeem'd us from hell: He ranfom'd our race;

O how fhall we praise,

Or worthily fing, his unfpeakable grace!

187.

C. M.

To the Savior.

STEELE.

NOME, heav'nly Love, infpire my fong
With thy immortal flame;

CON

And teach my heart, and teach my tongue
The Savior's lovely name.

The Savior! O what endless charms
Dwell in the blissful found!
Its influence ev'ry fear disarms,
And spreads sweet comfort round.

Here pardon, life, and joys divine
In rich effufion flow,
For guilty rebels, loft in fin,
Deferving endless woe.

L

God's only Son (ftupendous grace!)
Foriook his throne above:
And, fwift to fave our wretched race,
He flew on wings of love.
Th' almighty Former of the ikies
Stoop'd to our vile abode ;
While angels view'd with wond'ring eyes,
And hail d th` incarnate God.

O the rich depths of love divine!
Of bitis, a boundler's ftore!
Dear Savior, let me call thee mine;
I cannot with for more!

On thee alone my hope relies ;
Beneath thy crois I fall;
My Lord, my Life, my Sacrifice,
My Savior and my All!

188. C. M.

Son of Man.

How fhall duft thy praife declare,
When angels try in vain è

And vail their eyes when they appear
Before the Son of Man!

Yet Lond, we cannot filent be;
By love we are conftrain'd
To offer our beft thanks to thee,
Our Savior and our Friend.

Worthip and bonor, thanks and love,
Be to our Jefus giv'n;

By faints below, and bolts above,
"Till we all meet in heav'n.