HYMN XXXV.

The amazing Love of CHRIST.

1 AMAZING love! that made God's Son
So willingly confent

For worms, yea, foes and rebels base,
To bear their punishment.

2 Love made him lay afide his crown
And robes of majesty,

And like a fervant to come down

To bear the cross, and die.

3 Love brought him down for worms to die.
Love laid him in a tomb;

Love brings him down a second time,
To lead his people home.

4 When devils rag'd, he then engag'd
To combat all hell's pow'rs;
He them defy'd, when that he dy'd

5

To fave us from hell's fhow'rs.
When heav'n and hell both on him fell
Our fouls he fast did hold;

His life gave up, the flood to stop,

And bring us to his fold.

6 Love made him on the cross to bleed,
And fall our facrifice;

Love made the tree him brought to duft
Raise men unto the skies.

7 Chrift fuffer'd: why? he's pleas'd to fee
Poor ftraying sheep brought home,
And unbelieving fouls allur'd

Into his wounds to come.

8 Hence he declares none perifh fhall
Who in him do believe;

Their fins he'll pardon, and them take
To heav'n with him to live.

9 All things to me are dung and drofs
But Jefus crucify'd;

Under the fhadow of his cross
I'll fit down and abide.

HYMN XXXVI.

A HYMN to the HOLY GHOST.

3 LORD, fend thy Spirit down to us, Chrift's purchafe to apply;

He'll

He'll caufe us fee our fall and help,
And unto Jefus fly.

2 Thou, who at Pentecoft didft send
Heav'n's wind to fill the place
Where thy apoftles met for pray'r,
Grant us part of that

grace;

3 That gladly we, like them, may found
The wondrous works of God.

And fhew the mighty pow'r and fruits
Of Jefu's precious blood.

4 Come, Holy Ghoft, thou heavenly Dove
Defcending from above,

Renew our fouls, and fill our hearts
With precious faith and love.
We are thy workmanship; but fin
Hath ev'ry thing mifplac'd;
Come o'er thy handy-work again;
Thy image is defac'd.

6 Create in us all things anew,
Caufe old things pass away;
Our corrupt habits quite fubdue,
Sin weaken ev'ry day.

7

Let David's house in us grow ftrong
But weak the house of Saul;

Let fatan's holds and all our lufts
Before God's Spirit fall.

8 O kindly guide poor travellers

Into the paths of

peace,

And bring us to our Father's house,
Where fins and forrows ceafe:

HYMN XXXVII.

The Balm of CHRIST'S Blood,

I CHRIST's blood, that univerfal balm
Which thousands long have try'd,
Doth quicken, foften, cleanfe and heal,
Where-e'er it is apply'd.

2 This fov'reign blood doth purge out fin,
And doth allay our fears;

It gives us light and ftrength within,
And dries hurtful tears.

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3 By this blood, hell its prey hath loft,

Juftice is fatisfy'd:

VOL: IV.

Now willing fouls may be forgiv'a
Since Jefus bled and dy'd.

4 No blood like this was ever thed,'
For heav'n it makes us meet;

Mens hearts it draws, and pleads their caufe:

No voice like it's fo fweet.

5 Abel's fhed blood did vengeance cry: But Chrift cry'd, Mercy fhew; Them pity, Father, and forgive;

They know not what they do."

6 What love is this, that God should stoop
In human flesh to dwell,
And fhed his blood for enemies,
To keep them out of hell!

7 Great love it was for God to bleed
For rebels doom'd to death;
But more to fuffer hell, to fave

Them from eternal wrath.
8 O let this divine blood of thine
My hard heart overflow:

This blefling grant, though earthly gifts
Thou shouldft no more bestow.

6 In my faith's arms I take the Lamb,
As offer'd unto me:

His precious blood I do apply,
Me from all guilt to free.

HYMN XXXVIII.

Shew forth CHRIST'S Death.

1 SINCE our Redeemer faith, Do this;
This we will always do

Till Chrift to us return again,
Thus we his death will fhew,

2 How fweet and welcome to our fouls
Is Christ's dear feaft of love!
Tho' it be no more but a tafte
Of that great feast above.

3 Thy flesh, Lord, is the fweeteft food,
Thy blood is drink divine';

4

Thy purchas'd fruits are the beft fare
On which thou mak't us dine.
Pardon of fin, and peace with God,
Do make a noble feast ;

Coftly

Coftly to Chrift, tho' free to us:

Moft sweetly do they taste.

5 Here we fet forth our fuff'ring Lord,
As bleeding unto death;
Likewise the forrows of his foul,
When lying under wrath:

6 The nails which pierc'd his hands and feet,
Which caufed ftreams of blood;

The thorns which crown'dd his bleffed head,
And fwell'd the crimfon flood.

7 Since Chrift requires us for to shew
His love to us when loft,

What wounds, and blood, and agonies,
To fave us, it did coft;

8 Thus we review thy death for us,
O Lamb, for finners flain :
We praise thy love, and reft upon
The merit of thy pain,

HYMN XXXIX.

The Believer's Work at the Holy Supper.

I'LL fit beneath Immanuel's cross,

Under thefe fhow'rs of blood:

On my hard heart caufe drops to light
From thy wounds, O my God.

2 My Lord I fee nail'd to the tree,
And dying for my fin;

Thy fide wide open'd with a spear,
To lodge my foul therein.

3 I kifs the nail-holes in thy hands,
And fide the fpear did pierce :
I fhelter here, this cave me hides
When storms blow fharp and fierce.
4 My heart doth bleed, my eyes do drop,
When I thy anguish fee,

And think thefe bruifes fore and pangs
Were all deferv'd by me.

5 I fee my fins prepar'd the cross,

The thorns, the nails, and fpear,
Which tore thy flefh they made thy foul
The pains of hell to bear.

6 In thy wounds I fin's ill do fee;

In fin I'll not proceed,

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No more abuse thy love, nor make
Thy wounds afresh to bleed
7 I mourn, and hate my cruel fins,

Which pierc'd my Lord to death:
Thefe murderers shall find no more
Place in my foul to breathe.

8 Awake, my foul, with all thy pow'rs
Join with the hosts above,
To celebrate forgiving grace,
And praise redeeming love.

HYMN XL.

Sweet Fruits of CHRIST's Sufferings.

I THY gofpel, Lord, holds forth thy love
In fweet and melting founds,
And us a fov'reign balm prefents
From Jefu's bleeding wounds.

2 It is thy pain that giveth ease
To my diseased foul;

When I am full of pains and wounds,
Thy ftripes do make me whole.

3 Thy cries bring anfwers to my prayer's,
Thy wounds are my refuge;

Thy blood doth wash my crimson guilt,
Ánd fave from wrath's deluge.

4 Thy crofs doth bring me nigh to God,
And doth his wrath appeafe;

Thy blood brings pardon for my guilt,
And gives my confcience ease.
5 Thy death hath purchas'd life to me ;
Thy grave hides all my fin,
And all the curfes of the law:

Which yields great peace within.
6 Vaft fums of debt for us thou paid
With thy own dear heart's blood,
And calls us to be pure and white,
By washing in this flood.

7 This is our loving Ranfomer,

Who our whole curfe endur'd; And, having paid our dreadful debt, Our rooms in heav'n fecur'd.

8 To him that lov'd us unto death

All honour we will give :

He

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