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He'll cause us see our sall and help,
And unto Jesus fly.
Heav'n's -wind to sill the place
Grant us part of that grace j
3 That gladly we, like them, may sound
The wondrous works of God.
4 Come, Holy Ghost, thou heavenly Dove
Descending from above,
5 We are thy workmanship ; but sin
Hath ev'ry thing misplac'd; Come o'er thy handy-work again j Thy image is desac'd.
6 Create in us all things anew,
Cause old things-pass away;
Sin weaken ev'ry day-. \ ,
But weak the house of Saulj
Besore God's Spirit sall.
Into the paths of peace,
Where sins and sorrows cease;
The Balm of Christ's Blood.
1 CHRIST'S blood, that universal balm Which thousands long have try'd, Doth quicken, soften, cleanse and heal, Where-e'er it is apply'd. 3 This sov'reign blood doth purge out sin, And doth allay our sears j It gives us light and strength within, And dries up hurtsul tears. 3 By this blood, hell its prey hath lost, Justice is satisfy'd; Vol.' IV. 3 Z
Now willing souls may be sorgiv'n
4 No blood like this was ever died,
For heav'n it makes us meet; Mens hearts it draws, and pleads their cause No voice like it's so sweet.
5 Abel's slied blood did vengeance cry:
But Christ cry'd, Mercy shew; Them pity, " Father, and sorgive; "They know not what they do."
6 What love is this, that God should stoop
In human flesh to dwell,
7 Great love it was sor God to bleed
For rebels doom'd to death ,
8 O let this divine blood of thine
My hard heart overflow:
Thou shouldst no more bestow.
As osser'd unto me:
Me from all guilt to free.
Shew forth Christ's Death.
1 SINCE our Redeemer saith, Do this;
This we will always do;
2 How sweet and welcome to our souls
Is Christ's dear seast of love!
3 Thy flesh, Lord, is the sweetest sood,
Thy blood is drink divine j
4 Pardon of lin, and peace with God,
Do make a noble seast j
Costly to Christ, tho' free to us:
5 Here we set sorth our suss'ring Lord,
As bleeding unto death;
6 The nails which piere'd his hands and seet,
Which caused streams of blood j
7 Since Christ requires us sor to shew
His love to us when lost,
8 Thus we revsew thy death sor us,
O Lamb, sor sinners flain:
1 I'LL sit beneath Immanuel's cross,
Under these show'rs of blood:
2 My Lord I see nail'tl to the tree,
And dying sor my sin;
3 I kiss the nail-holes in thy hands,
And side the spear did pierce:
4 My heart doth bleed, my eyes do drop,
When 1 thy anguish see,
No more abuse thy love, nor make
Thy wounds asresh to bleed 7 I mourn, and hate my cruel sins,
Which pierc'd my Lord to death;
Place in my soul to breathe;
Join with the hosts above,
And praise redeeming love.
Sweet Fruits of Christ's Sufferings.
1 THY gospel, Lord, holds sorth thy love
In sweet and melting sounds, And us a sov'reign balm presents From Jesu's bleeding wounds.
2 It is thy pain that giveth ease
To my diseased soul•, . When I am sull of pains and wounds, Thy stripes do make me whole.
3 Thy cries bring answers to my prayer's,
Thy wounds are my resuge;
4 Thy cross doth bring me nigh to God,
And doth his wrath appease j
5 Thy death hath purchas'd lise to me;
Thy grave hides all my sin,
6 Vast sums of debt sor us thou paid
With thy own dear heart's blood, And calls us to be pure and white, By washing in this flood.
7 This is our loving Ransomer,
Who our whole curse endur'd;
8 To him that lov'd us unto death
All honour we will give.;