And weep, and love, and bless the name, That knew no guilt nor grief his own, but bare it all for me.

4 Next he describes the thorns he wore, And talks his bloody passion o'er,

Till I am drown'd in tears:

Yet with the sympathetic smart,

There's a strange joy beats round my heart,
The cursed tree has blessings in't, my sweetest
balm it bears.

5 I hear the glorious sufferer tell,
How on the cross he vanquish'd hell,
And all the powers beneath:
Transported and inspired, my tongue
Attempts his triumphs in a song:

How has the serpent lost his sting, and where's thy victory death?

6 But when he shows his hands and heart,
With those dear prints of dying smart,
He sets my soul on fire:

Not the beloved John could rest

With more delight upon that breast,

Nor Thomas pry into those wounds with more intense desire.

7 Kindly he opes to me his ear,

And bids me pour my sorrows there,
And tell him all my pains:

Thus while I ease my burthen'd heart,

In every woe he bears a part,

His arms embrace me, and his hand my drooping head sustains.

JES

HYMN 236. 8 lines 8s and 7s.

ESUS to every willing mind Opens a heavenly treasure; In him the sons of sorrow find

Sources of real pleasure;

See what employments men pursue; Then you will own my words are true, Jesus alone unfolds to view

Sources of real pleasure.

2 Poor are the joys that fools esteem,
Fading and transitory;

Myrth is as fleeting as a dream,
Or a delusive story:

Luxury leaves a sting behind,
Wounding the body and the mind;
Only in Jesus can we find
Pleasure and solid glory.

3 Learning, that boasting, glitt'ring thing, Scarcely is worth possessing:

Riches, forever on the wing,

Scarce can be call'd a blessing:
Fame, like a shadow, flies away,
Titles and dignities decay,
Nought but religion can display
Joys that are free from trouble.

4 Beauty, with all its gaudy shows,
Is but a painted bubble;
Short are the triumphs wit bestows,
Full of deceit and trouble;
Sensual pleasures swell desire,
Just as the fuel feeds the fire;

Religion can real bliss inspire,
Bliss that is worth possessing.

HYMN 237. S. M.

TI shall be well supplied;

HE Lord my shepherd is,

Since he is mine, and I am his,
What can I want beside?

2 He leads me to the place

Where heavenly pasture grows,
Where living waters gently pass,
And full salvation flows.

3 While he affords his aid,
I'm free from every fear;

Tho' I should walk thro' death's dark shade,
My Shepherd's with me there.

4 In spite of all my foes,

Thou dost my table spread;
My cup with blessings overflows,
And joy exalts my head.

5 The bounties of thy love,

Shall crown my following days;
Nor from thy house will I remove,
Nor cease to speak thy praise.

HYMN 238. 8 lines 8s and 7s.

GLORIOUS things of thee are spoken,

Zion, city of our God!

He whose words cannot be broken,

Form'd thee for his own abode:

On the rock of ages founded,

What can shake thy sure repose?
With salvation's walls surrounded,

Thou may'st smile at all thy foes.

2 See! the streams of living waters
Springing from eternal love,
Will supply thy sons and daughters,
And all fear of want remove.
Who can faint while such a river
Ever flows their thirst t' assuage;
Grace, which like the Lord, the giver,
Never fails from age to age?

3 Round each habitation hovering,
See the cloud and fire appear!
For a glory and a cov'ring,

Showing that the Lord is near;
Thus deriving from their banner
Light by night, and shade by day;
Safe they feed upon the manna
Which he gives them when they pray.

4 Blest inhabitants of Zion,

Wash'd in the Redeemer's blood!
Jesus, whom their souls rely on,

Makes them kings and priests to God: "Tis his love his people raises

Over self to reign as kings;
And as priests, his solemn praises,
Each for a thank-offering brings.

5 Saviour, if of Zion's city

I, through grace, a member am,

Let the world deride or pity,
I will glory in thy name:
Fading is the worldling's pleasure,
All his boasted pomp and show;
Solid joys and lasting treasure

None but Zion's children know.

HYMN 239. L. M.

THE shall com their center shake,

HE Lord shall come! the earth shall quake

And, withering from the vault of night,
The stars shall pale their feeble light.

2 The Lord shall come! but not the same
As once in lowliness he came;
A silent Lamb before his foes,
A weary man, and full of woes.

3 The Lord shall come! a dreadful form,
With rainbow-wreath, and robes of storm;
On cherub-wings, and wings of wind,
Appointed Judge of all mankind.

4 Can this be He, who went to stray
A pilgrim on the world's highway,
Oppress'd by power and mock'd by pride,
The Nazarene-the crucified?

5 While sinners in despair shall call,
"Rocks, hide us: mountains, on us fall!"
The saints, ascending from the tomb,
Shall joyful sing, "The Lord is come!"