HYMN LII.

The Soul wondring at REDEEMING LOVE.

1 HOW full of wonder is that love,
That made God leave his throne above,
To dwell in clay with men below,
And death for them to undergo!
2 That God, who keeps the key of death,
Should on a cross refign his breath!
To bring us pleasure, fhould feel pain;
To give us life, he fhould be flain!

3 Great love! that made Christ groan and die,
Yea, rend the heavens with his cry,

That loud cry," My God, my God, why
Haft thou forfaken me, to-day !"

4 Our Lamb hell's pains for us would bear;
Let him the crown for ever wear:

Let all who love his worthy name
In fongs of triumph fpread his fame.
5 Inflame our hearts, refine our tongues,
To praise with heav'nly thoughts and fongs:
O let our hearts be tun'd with love,
And make us meet for fongs above.
6 Deep in my foul this truth ingrain,
My glorious friend the Lamb is flain :
I'll wondring ly, that God fhould die
For man that was his enemy.
7 O holy Ghoft, come from above,
Withdraw my heart from worldly love,
That I may think of nought befide,
My God, my Saviour crucify'd.

And cry,

8 With Simeon, I the Lamb embrace,
"Lord, let me go in peace;
Now make me meet with faints above,
To fing thy everlasting love.

HYMN LIII.

The bleffed Fruits of the curfed Tree.

IN mournful fongs we will record
The pangs and forrows of our Lord,
The tears and blood he for us fpilt,
To make atonement for our guilt.

M

My Jefus on the curfed tree
Did bow his dying head for me.
2 The dying pangs of our dear Lord
The honour of God's law reftor'd;
The death and fuff'rings he endur❜d
Eternal life for us procur'd.

Our glorious Jefus, by his love,
Hath made the curfe a bleffing prove.
3 We praise the Lamb, our dearest Lord,
Whofe hands and feet for us were bor'd
It was the crofs, that curfed tree,
On which the prince of life did die;
Accurs'd it was, yet divine love
Hath made the curfe a bleffing prove.
Each heavy blow, and bloody ftripe,
Our fums of debt quite out doth wipe:
Then all our debt was fully paid,
When he on Calv'ry bow'd his head.
That tree of death to us is made
A tree of life with pleasant fhade.
5 Behold, Chrift's blood his garments dy'd,
When he was bruis'd and crucify'd :
He dy'd upon the curfed tree,
My precious foul from hell to free.
That tree of death to us is made
A tree of life with pleasant (hade.
6 Chrift bore the curfe for wretched men ;
To buy us heav'n, our Lamb was flain;
His wounds ftand open to receive

All helpless finners who believe.
My Jefus on the curfed tree

Did bow his dying head for me.

HYMN LIV.

CHRIST'S Blood calling aloud to us.

I I HEAR my Saviour cry aloud,
O finner, haften to my blood;
Each drop of blood cries to thee, Come,
In my pierc'd fide yet there is room.
Let finners come, and no more doubt;
For, "him that comes I'll not caft out."
2 My blood fhall ransom all from wrath,
Who truft and look to me by faith:

My

My righteousness is free to all,

Who come to me upon my call.

Let finners come and no more doubt;

For "him that comes I'll not caft out."

3 A Saviour you cannot find

In creatures doings who have finn'd;
Pure righteoufnefs you seek in vain

In

any but the Lamb that's flain.

To my wounds let the guilty fly,
For love to you brought me to die,
4 Of works no more let finners boast;
Your infide view, and cry, we're loft:
Trust in my blood, who for you dy'd :
Look to me and be juftify'd.

To my wounds let the guilty fly,
For love to you brought me to die,
ૐ Bleft Lord, I hear thy gracious call,
And gladly at thy feet do fall;
The welcome offers of thy grace
My foul doth heartily embrace :
To Chrift I fly, and do confefs,
He is "the Lord our righteoufnefs"
6 Dear Lamb, thy voice doth fweetly found,
I fee a fountain in each wound;

The ftreams which thence do freely flow,
Black fouls do wash as white as fnow.
I'll shelter take, in all diftrefs,
Under my Saviour's righteousness.

HYMN LV.

Mourn for Sin, that pierced the LAME.

I MY foul, weep o'er thy fin and guilt,
For which thy Saviour s blood was fpilt;
Mourn for thy pride and unbelief,
For which he dragg'd was like a thief;
He for thy debt his heart's blood paid;
My Lamb, my Love is crucify'd.

2 I fee the drops of bloody fweat
Fall from thy forehead to thy feet:
Thefe drops befmear'd thy taiment all,
They move my tears as they do fall:
How heavy are my fins when weigh'd
My Lamb, my Love is crucify'd.
VOL. IV.

4 B

Upon

3 Upon hard hearts let these drops light,
Who are not moved at the fight;
Let hearts which terrors cannot move
Now be diffolv'd by Jefu's love :
Still I must look on fin with pain,
Since for my fins the Lamb was flair.
4 My fins did fpit in Jefu's face,

They would the Prince of life difgrace.
To fhame they fought him to expofe,
They nail'd him naked to the cross;
And bleeding, lift up on the tree,

Long hung the Man that dy'd for me.
5 My fins thee griev'd and ftabb'd thy heart,
They wounded thee in ev'ry part:

By fin thy bleffed flesh was torn.

I view thee whom I pierc'd, and mourn;
Thy bleeding body, pierc'd and tore.
I kiss, and bliss, and thee adore.
6 Our griefs and burdens, guilt and fhame,
Were all laid on the fpotlefs Lamb:
Had he refus'd them, I had been
Quite funk and loft in guilt and fin;
But juftice now is fatisfy'd,

My Lamb, my Love is crucify'd.

HYMN LVI.

The foul bemoaning its Cafe to God.

I TO God complaints and tears I fend;
When fhall my fins and groanings end?
By unbelief I faint and fall,

Yet falling I for pity call:

I'm weaker than a bruifed reed,
Always from Chrift I ftrength do need.
2 I nothing have me to commend,
My ftony heart I cannot rend;
By nature I have nothing good:
Thou faw'ft me in my filth and blood ;
Yet then, in love, thou bidft me live,
And for my foul a ransom gave.
3 I'm dull when thee I come before,
I'm lifelefs when I fhould adore:
From clogs of fin my foul fet free;
Lord, rouze my foul to worship thee,

My

My drouzy frame I do abhor;
Awake me, that I fleep no more.
4 A feeble helpless creature I
Do at thy pleasure live or die :
O lift the rod, thy wrath remove,
My heart fubdue to thee by love;
My fins forgive, and to me turn:
Spare me, for fin to weep and mourn.
5 Lord, rule my heart, and in me live,
And let no darling luft survive :
O bring my wand'rings to an end,
That fo my thoughts may upward tend.
Thy feeble duft with pity fee;
It mints and creeps to win to thee.
6 O Father of my dying Lord,
Fulfil to me his gracious word:
Thy Spirit grant, for which he pray'd;
His influences on me fhed.

Nothing but fin I thee can give ;
But quicken me, and I shall live.

Give Thanks for REDEEMING LOVE:

I FATHER, thy love fhines in thy Son;
Thou gav'ft him, tho' thou had'st but one,
To ranfom a rebellious race,

And us tranflate from fin to grace.
O, for his fake, our fins remove,
And we'll exalt redeeming love.
2 Dear Jefus bore the fins of men ;
Th' immortal God, the Lamb was flain.
Eternal bleffings on the Lamb,
Let angels trumpet out his fame ;
With angels bright, and faints above,
We'll join, and fing his dying love.
We thee adore, O Chrift the Son,
Who with thy Father dear art One,
And One the Holy Ghoft with thee,
The One Eternal God in Three:
O make us meet with faints above

3

To magnify redeeming love.

4

Thou faw'ft that all our pow'r was gone,
And to redeem us there was none :

4 B 2

If