The Christian Race.
WAK E our Souls (away our Fears, Let every trembling Thought be gone) Awake and run the heav'nly Race,
And put a chearful Courage on.
True 'tis a strait and thorny Road,
And mortal Spirits tire and faint;
But we forget the mighty God,
That feeds the Strength of ev'ry Saint.
O mighty God, thy matchless Pow'r
Is ever new and ever young ;
And firm endures, while endlefs Years
Their everlaftig Circles run.
From thee, the overflowing Spring,
Believers drink a fresh Supply,
While fuch as truft their native Strength,
Shall melt away, and droop, and die.
Swift as an Eagle cuts the Air,
Oh may we mount to thine Abode!
On Wings of Love, to Jefus fly,
Nor tire amidst the heav'nly Road!
We love him because he first loved us.
F him who did Salvation bring,
Lord may we ever think and fing!
Arife, ye guilty, he'll forgive;
Arife, ye needy, he'll relieve.
Eternal Lord, Almighty King,
All Heav'n doth with thy Triumphs ring;
Thou conquer'ft all beneath, above,
Devils with Force, and Men with Love.
To shame our Sins, Chrift blufh'd in Blood,
He clos'd his Eyes to fhew us God,
Let all the Word fall down and know,
That none but God fuch Love could show.
HYMN XC.
Perfevering Grace.
O God the only wife,
Our Saviour and our King,
Let all the Saints below the Skies
Their humble Praises bring.
'Tis his Almighty Love,
His Counsel and his Care,
Preferves us fafe from Sin and Death,
And ev'ry hurtful Snare.
He will present his Saints,
Unblemish'd and compleat,
Before the Glory of his Face,
With Joys divinely great.
Then all the chofen Seed
Shall meet around the Throne,
Shall blefs the Conduct of his Grace,
And make his Wonders known.
To our Redeemer God,
Wisdom and Pow'r belongs,
Immortal Crowns of Majesty,
And everlafting Songs.
HYMN XCI.
To Jefus Christ.
Thou in whom the Gentiles trust,
Thou only holy, only juft,
Oh tune our Souls to praise thy Name,
Jefus! unchangeable, the fame!
'If Angels, whilft to thee they fing,
Wrap up their Faces in their Wing,
How fhall we finful Duft draw nigh
The great, the awful Deity!
Glory to thee, aufpicious Lamb!
Thou holy Lord, thou great I Am;
With all our Pow'r, thy Grace we bless,
Our Joy, our Peace, our Righteousness.
Live, ever glorious Jefus ! live,
Worthy all Bleffings to receive!
Worthy on high enthron'd to fit
With ev'ry Pow'r beneath thy Feet.
HYMN XCII.
Unfruitfulness.
ONG have we fet beneath the Sound
Of thy Salvation, Lord,
But fill how weak our Faith is found,
And Knowledge of thy Word!
Oft we frequent thy holy Place,
Yet hear almost in vain :
How small a Portion of thy Grace
Do our falfe Hearts retain !
Our gracious Saviour and our God,
How little art thou known,
By all the Judgments of thy Rod,
And Bleffings of thy Throne ?
How cold and feeble is our Love,
How negligent our Fear!
How low our Hope of Joys above,
How few Affections there!
Great God, thy fov'reign Aid impart,
To give thy Word Success;
Write thy Salvation on our Hearts,
And make us learn thy Grace.
Shew our forgetful Feet the way
That leads to Joys on high;
Where Knowledge grows without Decay,
And Love shall never die.
The Church a Garden.
ION's a Garden wall'd around,
Chofen, and made peculiar Ground; A little Spot enclos'd by Grace,
Out of the World's wide Wilderness.
Like Spicy Trees, Believers ftand,
Planted by an Almighty Hand;
And all the Springs in Zion flow,
To make the rich Plantation grow.
Awake, O heav'nly Wind, and come,
Blow on this Garden of Perfume ;
Spirit divine, defcend, and breathe
A gracious Gale on Plants beneath.
Make thou our Spices flow abroad,
A grateful Incense to our God;
Let Faith, and Love, and Joy appear;
And ev'ry Grace be active here.
HYMN XCIV.
Redemption found.
OLY Lamb, who thee receive,
Who in thee begin to live,
Day and Night they cry to thee,
As thou art, fo let us be.
Fix, O fix each wav'ring Mind,
To thy Cross our Spirit bind ;
Earthly Paffions far remove,
Swallow up our Souls in Love.
Duft and Afhes tho' we be,
Full of Guilt and Mifery;
Thine we are, thou Son of God,
Take the Purchase of thy Blood.
Boundless Wifdom, Power divine,
Love unspeakable are thine;
Praife by all to thee be giv'n,
Sons of Earth and Hofts of Heav'n.
HYMN XCV.
Complaining of fpiritual Sloth.
2 drowsy Pow'rs, why fleep ye fo?
ke each fluggish Soul;
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