HYMN CXIII.
Behold I ftand at the Door and knock, &c.
WE magnify thy Grace, O Lord;
How plenteoufly haft thou prepar'd
A Supper for thy Saints!
All Things are ready, thou haft faid,
A Table thou haft richly spread,
To answer all our Wants.
Now, Lord, allure our Souls to thee,
O kindly bid us come and fee,
And tafte how good thou art;
Knock with the Hammer of thy Word,
Knock by thy pow'rful Spirit, Lord,
Lord, break into each Heart.
Darkness and Unbelief remove,
And ravish all our Souls with Love,
Caft out the Pow'r of Sin;
Jefus, attend our feeble Pray'r,
And for thyfelf our Hearts prepare,
Come in, our Lord, come in.
Let Comfort, Love, and Joy, and Peace,
Like Rivers flow, and ftill increafe,
Unto the Ocean driv❜n:
Lord, condefcend to fup with me,
And grant I now may fup with thee,
And fup at laft in Heav'n.
HYMN CXIV.
Repentance flowing from the Patience of GOD.
ND are we Wretches yet alive?
And do we yet rebel?
'Tis boundlefs, 'tis amazing Love,
That bears us up from Hell.
The Burden of our weighty Guilt
Would fink us down to Flames,
And threat'ning Vengeance rolls above,
To crush our feeble Frames.
Almighty Goodnefs cries, Forbear,
And strait the Thunder stays:
And dare we now provoke hts Wrath,
And weary out his Grace?
Lord, we have long abus'd thy Love,
Too long indulg'd our Sin;
Oh that our Hearts might bleed, to fee
What Rebels we have been !
No more, our Lufts, may ye command,
No more may we obey;
Stretch out, O God, thy conqu'ring Hand,
And drive thy Foes away.
Access to the Throne of Grace by a
OM E, let us lift our joyful Eyes
Up to the Courts above,
And fmile to see our Father there,
Upon a Throne of Love.
Once 'twas a Seat of dreadful Wrath,
And fhot devouring Flame;
Our God appear'd consuming Fire,
And Vengeance was his Name.
Rich were the Drops of Jefu's Blood,
That calm'd his frowning Face,
That fprinkl'd o'er the burning Throne,
And turn'd the Wrath to Grace.
Now we may bow before his Feet,
And venture near the Lord;
No fiery Cherub guards his Seat,
No double-flaming Sword.
The peaceful Gates of heav'nly Bliss
Are open'd by the Son;
High let us raife our Notes of Praife,
And reach th' Almighty Throne.
To thee ten thousand Thanks we bring,
Great Advocate on high;
And Glory to th' eternal King,
That lays his Fury by.
HYMN CXVI.
The Darkness of PROVIDENCE.
ORD, we adore thy vaft Designs, Th' obfcure Abyfs of Providence, Too deep to found with mortal Lines, Too dark to view with feeble Senfe.
Now thou array'ft thine awful Face,
In angry Frowns, without a Smile;
Saints thro' the Cloud believe thy Grace,
Secure of thy Compaffion ftill.
Through Seas and Storms of deep Distress,
They fail by Faith, and not by Sight;
Faith guides them in the Wilderness,
Thro' all the Briars and the Night.
Dear Father, if thy lifted Rod
Refolve to fcourge us here below,
Still we must lean upon our God,
Thine Arm fhall bear us fafely thro'.
The Priesthood of CHRIST.
LOOD has a Voire to pierce the Skies,
But the dear Stream, when Chrift was flain,
Speaks Peace as loud from ev'ry Vein.
Pardon and Peace, from God on high;
Behold, he lays his Vengeance by ;
And Rebels that deferve his Sword,
Become the Fav'rites of the Lord.
To Jefus let our Praises rife,
Who gave his Life a Sacrifice ;.
Now he appears before our God,
And for our Pardon pleads his Blood.
HYMN CXVIII.
The Benefit of Publick Ordinances.
WAY from ev'ry mortal Care,
Away from Earth our Souls retreat ;
We leave this worthlefs World afar,
And wait and worship near thy Seat.
Lord, in the Temple of thy Grace,
We fee thy Feet, and we adore;
We gaze upon thy lovely Face,
And learn the Wonders of thy Pow'r.
While here our various Wants we mourn,
United Groans afcend on high;
And Prayer bears a quick Return
Of Bleffings in Variety.
Father, our Souls would ftill abide
Within thy Temple, near thy Side;
But, if our Feet muft hence depart,
Still keep thy Dwelling in my Heart.
HYMN CXIX.
Infant Baptifm.
HUS did the Sons of Abr'ham pafs
Under the bloody Seal of Grace;
The young Difciples bore the Yoke,
'Till Chrift the painful Bondage broke.
By milder Ways doth Jefus prove
His Father's Cov'nant and his Love;
He feals to Saints his glorious Grace;
And not forbids their Infant-Race.
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