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Is he a God } and shall his grace

Grow weary of his saints ? Can a kind woman e'er forget

The infant of her womb, And ’mongst a thousand tender thoughts

Her suckling have no room? Yet, saith the Lord, should nature change,

And mothers monsters prove,
Sion still dwelly upon the heart

Of everlasting love.
Deep on the palms of both my hands,

I have engrav'd her name,
My power shall raise her ruin'd walls,

And build her broken frame.


Portugal New. THY mercy, my God, is the theme of my song The joy of my heart and the boast of my

tongue; Thy free grace, alone, from the first to the

last, Hath won my affections and bound


soul fast. Without thy sweet mercy I could not live here Sin soon would reduce me to utter despair ; But thro' thy free goodness my spirits revive, And he that first made me still keeps me


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Thy mercy, in Jesus, exempts me from bell; Its glories I'll sing, and its wonders I'll tell: 'Twas Jesus, the Lord, when he hung on the

tree, Who opened the channel of mercy for me. Great Father of mercies, thy goodness I

own, And publish the love of thy crucified Son; All praise to the Spirit, whose witness divine Seals mercy and pardon, and righteousness



Mansfield, MY soul repeat his praise,

Whose mercies are so great ;
Whose anger is so slow to rise,

So ready to abate.
God will not always chide,

And when his strokes are felt,
His strokes are fewer than our crimes,

And lighter than our guilt.
High as the heavens are rais'd,

Above the ground we tread, So far the riches of his grace

Our highest thoughts exceed. His power subdues our sins,

And his forgiving love,

Far as the east is from the west,

Doth all our guilt remove.
The mercies of the Lord

To endless years endure ;
And children's children ever find

His word of promise sure. 18. wannen

Tuckers. SING to the Lord Jehovah's name,

And in his strength rejoice; When his salvation is our theme,

Exalted be our voice, With thanks approach his awful sight,

And psalms of honour sing ;
The Lord's a God of boundless might,

The whole creation's King.
Let princes hear, let angels know,

How mean their natures seem,
Those gods on high and gods below,

When once compar'd with him. Earth with its caverns, dark and deep,

Lies in his spacious hand; He fixed the seas wbat bounds to keep,

And where the hills must stand.
Come, and with humble souls adore,

Come, kneel before his face;
O may the creatures of his power,

Be children of his grace!

Now is the time he bends his ear,

And waits for your request; Come, lest he rouse his wrath and swear,

6 Ye shall not see my rest." 19 wwwvarno


PRAISE the Lord who reigns above,

And keeps his courts below; Praise the boly God of love,

And all his greatness shew : Praise him for his noble deeds,

Praise him for his matchless power; Him from whom all good proceeds,

Let earth and heaven adore. Him in whom they move and live,

Let every creature sing, Glory to their Maker give,

And homage to their King : llallowed be his name beneath,

As in heaven, on earth ador'd ; Praise the Lord in every breath,

Let all things praise the Lord.


Doversdale. MY God, my King, thy various praise Shall fill the reninant of my days; Thy grace employ my humble tongue ; Till death and glory raise the song.

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Thy truth and justice I:Il proclaim;
Thy bounty flows, an endless stream,
Thy mercy swift, thine anger slow,
But dreadful to the stubborn foe.
Thy works with sovereign glory shine,
And speak thy majesty divine;
Let Britain round her shores proclaim,
The sound and honour of thy name.
But who can speak thy wond'rous deeds ?
Thy greatness all our thoughts exceeds!
Vast and unsearchable thy, ways!
Vast and immortal be thy praise.

NOW to the Lord, a noble song,
Awake, my soul, awake, my tongue;
Hosanna to th' eternal name,
And all his boundless love proclaim.
See where it shines in Jesu's face,
The brightest image of his grace;
God, in the person of his Son,
Has all his mightiest works outdone.
The spacious earth and swelling flood,
Proclaim the wise, the powerful God;
And thy rich glories, from afar,
Sparkle in every rolling star.
But in his looks a glory stands,
The noblest labour of thine hands :

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