HYMN 18. 'H° DORSET. WOW fad our state by nature is, Our fin how deep it stains! And Satan binds our captive fouls, Faft in his flavish chains; But there's a voice of fov'reign grace, 2 O may we hear th' Almighty call, We would believe thy promife, Lord, To the blest fountain of thy blood, There may we wash our fpotted fouls 3 Stretch out thine arm, victorious King, I Drive the old dragon from his feat, Poor guilty, weak, and helpless worms, Be thou our strength and righteousness, 'Ο HYMN 19.WANDSWORTH. 4 2 Thefe clouds of pride and fin difpe!, Lighten mine eyes with faith, my heart 3 My mind by thy all quick'ning power, 4 Father, thy long-loft fon receive, HYMN 20. MOLESWORTH. ARISE my foul with wonder fee, What love divine for thee hath done, Behold thy forrow, fin, and grief, z See from his head, his hands, his feet, Sorrow and love flow mingling down; Did e'er fuch love, fuch forrow meet, That were a prefent far too fmall; Love fo amazing, fo divine, Demands my foul, my life, my all. I HYMN 21.- BUXTON. A WAKE and fing the fong, Of Mofes and the Lamb; Wake ev'ry heart, and ev'ry tongue, 2 Sing of his dying love, Sing of his rifing pow'r, 3 Sing till we feel our hearts, Afcending with our tongues; 4 Sing on your heav'nly way, 5 Soon fhall ye hear him fay, "Ye bleffed children come;" Soon will he call ye hence away, And take his wand'rers home. HYMN 22.- RICHMOND. HEN I furvey the wond'rous croft, WHE On which the Prince of Glory dy'd, My richest gain I count but lofs, And pour contempt on all my pride. 2 Forbid it, Lord, that I fhould boaft, Save in the cross of Chrift, my God: All the vain things that charm me moż I facrifice them for thy blood. HYMN 23.CIRENCESTER. PRAISE ye the Lord, y'immortal choir, That fill the realms above; Praise him who form'd you of his fire, Or veil in fhades your thousand eyes, 2 Thou reflefs globe of golden light, For when his chariot is a cloud, 3 Thunder, and hail, and fire, and storms, Shout to the Lord ye furging feas, Let waves to waves refound his praise, . 4 Wave your tall heads, ye lofty pines, Sweet clusters bend the fruitful vines, Ye mortals, take the founder I HYMN 24. JESUS -LEEDS. ESUS, thy blood and righteoufnefs, My beauty are, my glorious drefs; 'Midft flaming worlds in thefe array'd, With joy fhall I lift up my head. 2 When from the duft of death I rife, To claim my manfion in the skies; Ev'n then, shall this be all my plea, 66 Jef is hath liv'd hath dy'd for me." From fin and fear, from guilt and shame. 4 Thus Abraham, the friend of God, 5 This fpotless robe the fame appears, 6 Q let the dead now hear thy voice, I HYMN 25 HUDDERSFIELD. MY hiding place, my refuge, tow'r, Μ And fhield art thou, O Lord! I firmly anchor all my hopes, On thy unerring word. |