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153. 11's. Altered.

Sinners warned, and invited.
A ,

The gospel of Jesus invites you to-day;
Come, now be entreated to turn from your sin,

Wait not till to-morrow before you begin.
2 O why will you tarry till conscience is seard ?

And why by the tempter be farther ensnar'd ?
While Jesus invites you a crown to obtain,

Say not, I to-morrow will hear thee again. 3 Of all hell's devices poor souls to decoy,

"Tis procrastination the most doth destroy ; Now, now is the season, then no longer wait,

Tomorrow, poor sinner, it may be too late. 4 Dear mourners, don't linger-obey the sweet voice

Of Jesus, and in him believe and rejoice,
Chonse him for your portion-resign all below,
Unite with his children, and heaven-ward go,

154. 8. 7. 4. Hart.
Come, and welcome, to Jesus Christ, Isa. iv. 1

Weak and wounded, sick and sore,
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity, love and power:

He is able,
He is willing, doubt no more.
2 Let not conscience make you linger,

Nor of fitness fondly dream;
All the fitness he requires,
Is to feel your need of him;

This he gives you;
'Tis the Spirit's rising beam.
3 Come, ye weary, heavy-laden,

Bruis'd and mangled by the fall;
If you tarry till you 're better,
You will never come at all :

Not the righteous,
Sinners Jesus came to call.

4 Agonizing in the garden,

Lo! your Maker prostrate lies ;
On the bloody tree behold him;
Hear him cry, before he dies,

It is finish'd !
Sinners, will not this suffice?
5 Lo! th' incarnate God ascended,

Pleads the merit of his blood;
Venture on him, venture wholly,
Let no other trust intrude;

None but Jesus
Can do helpless sinners good.
6 Saints and angels, join'd in concert,

Sing the praises of the Lamb!
While the blissful seats of glory,
Sweetly echo with his name:

Sinners here may do the same.

155. 8. 7. 4. Parkinson.

God is able and willing.
NOME, dear brethren in the Saviour,


Jesus able is to favour;
Fly to him with every care :

He is able, he is able,
Zion's drooping head to rear.
2 If but two or three remaining,

Meet for prayer, he's in the midst ;
Let us then, without complaining,
Wait till he shall us increase ;

He is able, he is able, Soon he'll make our sorrows cease. 3 By him stars and spheres were framed,

Light and darkness Jesus made;
From their graves the dead he raised,
Shall not his redeem'd be sav'd ?

He is able, he is able,
To bestow what we have cray'd.

4 Well, my friends, since Christ is able,

Of his will we dare not doubt,
Since for all the Father gave him,
Full salvation he wrought out:

Sure he never, sure he never, Spilt his precious blood for naught. 5 Let us love, adore, and praise him,

As the Lord our righteousness, -
Own him in our whole behavior,
Singing, we are sav'd by grace,'

Till in heaven, till in heaven
He shall give us all a place.

156. 8's. Miss Harrison.

Doubts dispersed.
A WAX, my doubts, begone, my fear,

The wonders that my Saviour wrought,
O, how delightful is the thought!
The wonders of redeeming love,
When first


heart was drawn above, When first I saw my Saviour's face,

And triumph'd in his pard’ning grace. 2 Pursue, my thoughts, this pleasing theme,

"Twas not a fancy, nor a dream;
'Twas grace descending from the skies,
And shall be marv'llous in mine eyes ;
Long had I mourn'd like one forgot,
Long had my soul for comfort sought;
Jesus was witness to my tears,

And Jesus sweetly calm'd my fears: 3 He cleans'd my soul, he chang’d my dress,

And cloth'd me with his righteousness;
He spake, at orice, my sins forgiven,
And I rejoic'd, as is in heaven;
How was I struck with sweet surprise,
While glory shone before mine eyes!
How did I sing from day to day,
And wish'd to sing my soul away!

4 The world, with all its pomp, withdrew,

'Twas less than nothing in my view;
Redeeming love was all my theme,
And life appeared an idle dream;
I gloried in my Saviour's grace,
I sung my great Redeemer's praise;
My soul then long'd to soar away,

And leave her tenement of clay.
5 The powers of hell in vain combin'd
To tempt or interrupt my mind;

and sung in joyful strains,
The monster Satan held in chains :-
These are the wonders I record;
The marv'llous goodness of the Lord!
O for a tongue to speak his praise,
And tell the triumphs of his grace!

I saw,

157. 8's. Rippon's Selection Trust' amid darkness, Hab. iii. 17, 18. A WAY, my unbelieving

fear! Let fear in me no more take place; My Saviour doth not yet appear,

He hides the brightness of his face;
But shall I therefore let him go,

And basely to the tempter yield ?
No, in the strength of Jesus no!

I never will give up my shield. 2 Although the vine its fruit deny,

Although the olive yield no oil, The with ring fig-tree droop and die,

The fields elude the tiller's toilThe empty stall no herd afford, —

And perish all the bleating race; Yet, will I triumph in the Lord

The God of my salvation praise ! 3 Away, my unbelieving fear!

Let fear to cheering hope give place; My Saviour will at length appear,

And show the brightness of his face :

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Though now my prospects all be cross'd,

My blooming hopes cut off I see, Still will I in my Jesus trust,

Whose boundless love can reach to me. 4 In hope, believing against hope,

His promis'd mercy will I claim; His gracious word shall bear me up,

To seek salvation in his name; Soon, my dear Saviour, bring it nigh !

My soul shall then outstrip the wind, On wings of love mount up on high,

And leave the world and sin behind.

158. 8. 7. Young soldiers in the spiritual war encouraged. DARK and thomy is the desert,

Through which pilgrims make their way; But beyond this vale of sorrow,

Lie the realms of endless day.
Dear young soldiers, do not murmur

At the troubles of the way;
Meet the tempest-fight with courage ;

Never faint, but often pray.
2 He whose thunder shakes creation;

He that bids the planets roll; He that rides upon the tempest,

And whose sceptre sways the whole Jesus, Jesus will defend you ;

Trust in him, and him alone; He has shed his blood to save you,

And will bring you to his throne ;3 There on flowery fields of pleasure,

And the hills of endless rest,
Joy and peace, and love, shall ever

Reign and triumph in your breast :
There, a million flaming seraphs

Fly across the heavenly plain;
There, they sing immortal praises
Glory, glory, is their theme.


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