Shout, ye little Flock, and bleft, Fear not, Brethren, joyful stand Lord, obediently we go, Gloria Patri. Father of Heav'n, be ever ador❜d ! Thy Mercy we find in fending our Lord, To ranfom and blefs us, thy Goodness we praife, In fending, in Jefus, Salvation by Grace. O Son of his Love, who deignedft to Die, Our Curfe to remove, our Pardon to buy, Accept our Thanksgiving, Almighty to fave, Who openeft Heaven to all that believe. O Spirit of Love, of Health, and of Power, Thy working we prove, thy Grace we adore ; Whofe inward revealing applies our Lord's [Blood, Attesting and fealing us Children of God. Sacra Sacramental HYMNS. HYMN I. Today we're bidden to a Feast, Surely a Feaft divine; Where Jefus is himself receiv'd In form of Bread and Wine. In that fame Night he was betray'd, Our Shepherd offer'd up himself, Together, with thefe Symbols, Lord, Let us from all our Sins be wash'd Come Holy Ghoft, with Jefu's Love, So fhall we banquet with our Lord, HYMN II. HOW fweet and awful is the Place? With Chrift within the Doors! While everlasting Love difplays Here, every bowel of our God, Here Peace and Pardon, bought with Blood, While all our Hearts, and all our Tongues, Each of us cry, with thankful Tongues, 'Twas the fame Love that fpread the Feast, And perifh'd in our Sin. HOW condefcending, and how kind, Was God's eternal Son! Our Mis'ry reach'd his heav'nly Mind, He funk beneath our heavy Woes, There's ne'er a Gift his Hand bestows, But coft his Heart a Groan ! Now, Now, tho' he reigns exalted high, Here we behold his Bowels roll, Here we receive repeated Seals Here let our Hearts begin to melt, HYMN Crucifixion. BEHOLD a Myftery! Of Love divinely Free, We had all offended God, IV. God himself a Ransom found, God the Son pour'd out his Blood, He hath once for all aton'd. The God of Nature fee Nail'd to the curfed Tree ! He, who all the Creatures made, He, whom Heaven and Earth obey, Suffers in the Creature's ftead, The Sun withdraws his Light, Her Creator fuffering thus ! Yet alas! what Hearts have we! Cold and ftupid at his Crofs. 'Tis finifh'd, Jefus cries! Then bows his Head and Dies! He, who knew no fpot of sin, All our Curfe and Burden bore, Dy'd to make us Sinners Clean, Dy'd that we might fin no more. Sinners, draw near to God, HYM N V. They shall look, St. and Mourn. Sinners, view the doleful Garden, Nothing |