Our Suff'rings are not worth a Thought, Our humble Faith here takes her rife, His Soul what Agonies it felt ! But the Divinity within, Dying, he conquer'd Hell and Sin, Our Hymns fhould found like those above, Come, Lord, and fill our Hearts with Love, And all our Lives with Praise. I John, iii, 16. THE God of the Skies, Our perfect atonement and great Sacrifice.. Loft Sinners who feel, Your Sins deferve Hell, What plenteous Redemption doth Jefus reveal Thy Glory difplay, Make this the bleft Day, When Doubts, Fears and Sorrows, fhall all What Wonders I fee, Salvation is free, (fly away, For impious Rebels, as wicked as we. Then let us adore His Goodness and Power, And praise him now, henceforth, and for ever HYMN (more. XXXIV. COME, thou wounded Lamb of God, Hide us within thy Wounds, then Pain Take our poor Hearts, and let them be How How can it be, thou heav'nly King, Ah, Lord, enlarge our fcanty Thought, OUR agonizing Saviour,, God's eternal Favour. In thine own Appointment bless us,, Qur Almighty Jefus. Let the Ordinance be fealing,. For thy conftant Dwelling, Fill the Heart of each Believer, TH HAT doleful Night before his Death, Did almoft with his lateft Breath, This folemn Feaft ordain. To keep thy Feaft, Lord, we are met, And to remember thee; Help each poor Sinner to repeat, Thy Suff'rings, Lord, each facred fign, We eat the Bread, and drink the Wine, O tune our Tongues, and fet in Frame C After Sacrament. OME, O my Soul, and fing, How Jefus gave himself for thee, I love my Saviour Chrift, I love thee, O my Lord, may I never turn again! But love thee more and more. O raise my feeble Flames! Increase Increase my Ardor Day by Day, O may my precious Soul, Lord, ne'er from thee remove; But O be near, and nearer And let me ever Love. G HYMN yet, XXXVIII. LORY to our God be given, As enjoy'd in Heaven. Jefus, God of my Salvation, Pardon give, let me Live, Lord, I know there is no Cure, This fhall make me pure. This, my deareft Saviour, give me, Haften thou defire of Nations, From below, take me to Heavenly Habitations. A T thy Command, our deareft Lord,. Here we attend thy dying Feaft, Thy Blood, like Wine, adorns thy Board, And thine own Flesh feeds ev'ry Guest, Our |