4 The sinner must the stranger know,
Or soon his loss deplore;
Behold! the living waters flow;
Come-drink, and thirst no more.

HYMN 81.

S. M.

DOBELL.

Durham, St. Thomas.

The accepted time. 2 Cor. vi. 2.
OW is th' accepted time,

NOW

Now is the day of grace;
Now, sinners, come without delay,
And seek the Saviour's face.

2 Now is th' accepted time,
The Saviour calls to-day;
To-morrow it may be too late-
Then why should you delay?
3 Now is th' accepted time,
The gospel bids you come;
And every promise in his word
Declares there yet is room.

4 Lord, draw reluctant souls,
And feast them with thy love;
Then will the angels clap their wings,
And bear the news above.

HYMN 82.

L. M.

DWIGHT.

Psalm 88th, Carthage, Darwent.

WHILE life prolongs its precious light,

W Mercy is found and peace is giv'n

But soon, ah soon! approaching night
Shall blot out ev'ry hope of heav'n.

2 While God invites, how blest the day! How sweet the gospel's charming sound! Come, sinners, haste, Oh, haste away, While yet a pard'ning God he's found." 3 "Soon, borne on time's most rapid wing, Shall death command you to the grave, Before his bar your spirits bring,

And none be found to hear, or save."
4 "In that lone land of deep despair,
No sabbath's heav'nly light shall rise;
No God regard your bitter pray'r,
Nor Saviour call you to the skies."

Blendon, China.

IO-DAY, if ye will hear his voice,

Now is the time to make your choice;

Say, will you to Mount Zion go?
Say, will you have this Christ, or no?
2 Ye wand'ring souls, who find no rest,
Say, will you be forever blest?

Will you be sav'd from sin and hell?
Will you with Christ in glory dwell?

3 Come now, dear youth, for ruin bound, Obey the gospel's joyful sound;

Come, go with us, and you shall prove

The joy of Christ's redeeming love.

4 Once more we ask you in his name—
For yet his love remains the same-
Say, will you to Mount Zion go?
Say, will you have this Christ, or no?

5 Leave all your sports and glittering toys,
Come, share with us eternal joys;
Or must we leave you bound to hell—
Then, dear young friends, a long farewel.

HYMN 84.

S. M.

DODDRIDGE.

7.1

T

Little Marlboro', Aylesbury.

James iv. 13, 14.

NO-MORROW, Lord, is thine,
Lodg'd in thy sov'reign hand;

And, if its sun arise and shine,
It shines by thy command.
2 The present moment flies,
And bears our life away;
Oh, make thy servants truly wise,
That they may live to-day.

3 Since on this winged hour
Eternity is hung,

Waken by thine almighty power
The aged and the young.

4 One thing demands our care;
Oh, be it still pursu’d—
Lest, slighted once, the season fair
Should never be renew'd.

5 To Jesus may we fly,

Swift as the morning light,

Lest life's young golden beams should die In sudden, endless night.

HYMN 85. L. M.

A

HEGINBOTHOM.

Leyden, Luton, Nantwich.

The night cometh. John ix. 4. WAKE, awake, my sluggish soul, Awake, and view the setting sun; See how the shades of death advance, Ere half the task of life is done.

2 Death!-'tis an awful, solemn sound Oh, let it wake the slumb'ring ear! Apace the dreadful conqueror comes, With all his pale companions near. 3 Thy drowsy eyes will soon be clos'd,These friendly warnings heard no more; Soon will the mighty Judge approach, E'en now he stands before the door. 4 To-day attend his gracious voice;

This is the summons that he sends: "Awake,-for on this transient hour Thy long eternity depends."

Wantage, Bangor.

WATTS.

Repentance. Zech. xii. 10.

1 ALAS! and did my Saviour bleed! And did my Sov'reign die ?

Would he devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?

2 Was it for crimes, that I had done-
He groan'd upon the tree ?-
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!

8 Well might the sun in darkness hide,
And shut his glories in,

When God, the mighty Maker, dy'd
For man, the creature's sin.

4 Thus might I hide my blushing face,
While his dear cross appears;
Dissolve, my heart, in thankfulness,
And melt, my eyes, to tears.

5 But drops of tears can ne'er repay
The debt of love I owe;

Here, Lord, I give myself away-
"Tis all that I can do.

HYMN 87.

C. M.

STEELE.

Funeral Hymn, Buckingham.

THOU, whose tender mercy hears
Contrition's humble sigh;

Whose hand, indulgent, wipes the tears
From sorrow's weeping eye;—

2 See, low before thy throne of grace,
A wretched wanderer mourn;

Hast thou not bid me seek thy face?
Hast thou not said-" Return ?"

3 And shall my guilty fears prevail
To drive me from thy feet?
Oh, let not this dear refuge fail,
This only safe retreat!