I

HYMN

WHE

LXXII.

HEN I furvey the wond'rous Crofs,
On which the Prince of Glary dy'd,
My richest Gain I count but Lofs,
And pour Contempt on all my Pride.
2 Forbid it, Lord, that I fhould boast,
Save in the Death of Chrift my God:
All the vain Things that charm me mast,
I facrifice them to his Blood.

3 See from his Head, his Hands, his Feet,
Sorrow and Love flow mingled down!
Did e'er fuch Love and Sorrow meet?
Or Thorns compofe fo rich a Crown?
4 Were the whole Realm of Nature mine,
That were a Present far too fmall;
Love fo amazing, fo divine,
Demands my Soul, my Life, my All.

A

T thy Command, our deareft Lord,
Here we attend thy dying Feast ;
The Bread thy broken Body fhows,
The Wine thy Blood shed for each Guest
2 Our Faith adores thy bleeding Love,
And trufts for Life in one that di'd;

We hope for heav'nly Crowns above,
From a Redeemer crucify'd.

3 Let the vain World pronounce it Shame, And fling their Scandals on thy Cause;

We

We come to boaft our Saviour's Name,
And make our Triumphs in his Crols.
4 With Joy we tell the fcoffing Age,
He that was dead hath left the Tomb;
He lives above their utmost Rage,
And we are waiting till he come.

HYMN LXXIV.

THIS, only this, fubdues the Fear of Death. And what is this? furvey thewond'rous Cure; And at each Step let higher Wonder rife! Pardon for infinite Offence! and Pardon Through Means, that speak its Value infinite! APardon bought with Blood! with Blood divine! With Blood divine of him I made my Foe! Perfifted to provoke! though woo'd, and aw'd, Bleft, and chaftis'd, a flagrant Rebel ftill!

A Rebel 'midft the Thunders of his Throne! Nor I alone; a Rebel Univerfe

My Species up in Arms! not one exempt! empty Yet for the Fouleft of the Foul heies. Moftjoy'd fortheRedeem'd from deepest Guilt! As if our Race were held of highest Rank; And Godhead dearer, as more kind to Man! Bound, ev'ryHeart! and, ev'ry Bofom, burn! Oh what a Scale of Miracles is here!

I

HYMN LXXV.

ALL Praife to the Lord,

all Praife is his Due;

To Day is his Word
of Promise found true;
We, we are the Nations
prefented to God;
Well-pleafing Oblations
thro' Jefus's Blood.
2 Poor Gentiles from far
to Jefus we came,
And offer'd we are

to God thro' his Name;
To God thro' the Spirit
ourselves do we give,
And fav'd by the Merit.
of Jefus we live.

i

HYMN LXXVI.

OUR Shepherd alone,

the Lord, let us bless;

Who fits on the Throne
the Prince of our Peace;
Who evermore faves us
by fhedding his Blood;
All hail, holy Jefus,
our Lord, and our God!

2 We daily will fing

thy Merits and Praise, Thou merciful Spring of Pity and Grace:

Thy

Thy Kindness for ever
to Men we will tell,
And say our dear Saviour
redeems us from Hell.

3 Preferve us in Love
while here we abide,
Nor ever remove,
nor cover, nor hide
Thy glorious Salvation,
till joyful we fee
The beautiful Vifion

compleated in thee!

HYMN

LXXVII.

NAKED as from the Earth we came, and crept to Life at first ;

We to the Earth return again, and mingle with the Duft.

2 The dear Delights we here enjoy and fondly call our own,

Are but short Favours borrow'd now, to be repaid anon.

3 'Tis God that lifts our Comforts high, or finks them to the Grave;

He gives, and bleffed be his Name!) he takes but what he gave.

4 Peace all our angry Paffions then, let each rebellious Sigh

Be filent at his fov'reign Will, and ev'ry Murmur die.

5 If fmiling Mercy crown our Lives,
its Praises shall be ipread;
And we'll adore the Juftice too

that ftrikes our Comforts dead.

HYMN LXXVIII.
THE Spirits of the Juft,

Confin'd in Bodies, groan;
Till Death configns the Corpfe to Duft,
And then the Conflict's done.

2 Jefus, who came to fave,

The Lamb for Sinniers flain,

Perfum'd the Chambers of the Grave,
And made ev'n Death our Gain..

3 Why fear we then to truft
The Place where Jefus lay ?.
In Quiet refts our Brother's Duft;
And this it seems to say:

4 Forbear, my Friends, to weep,
Since Death hath loft its Sting;
Thofe Chriftians, that in Jefus fleep,
Our God will with him bring.

I STRANGERS and Sojourners below,
We travel through this Wilderness;
Seeking the promis'd Reft to know.
In Chrift the Fountain of true Bliss;

We