111. The Dreadful End. L. M. 1 Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I, To mourn, and murmur, and repine To see the wicked, placed on high,

In pride and robes of honor shine!
2 But O, their end, their dreadful end!
Thy sanctuary taught me so:
On slippery rocks I see them stand,
And fiery billows roll below.

3 Their fancied joys, how fast they flee! Just like a dream when man awakes; Their songs of softest harmony

Are but a prelude to their plagues. 4 Now I esteem their mirth and wine Too dear to purchase with my blood; Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine, My life, my portion, and my God. Watts

112. The Broad Road. L. M. 1 Broad is the road that leads to death, And thousands walk together there; But wisdom shows a narrow path, With here and there a traveller. 2 "Deny thyself, and take thy cross," Is the Redeemer's great command; Nature must count her gold but dross, If she would gain this heavenly land.

121)

3 The fearful soul that tires and faints, And walks the ways of God no more, Is but esteem'd almost a saint,

And makes his own destruction sure. 4 Lord, let not all my hopes be vain; Create my heart entirely new ; Which hypocrites could ne'er attain, Which false apostates never knew.

Watts.

113. Hope in the Gospel. S. M. 1 God's holy law transgress'd,

Speaks nothing but despair;

Burden'd with guilt-with grief oppress'd,
We find no comfort there.

2 Not all our groans and tears,

Nor works which we have done;
Nor vows nor promises, nor prayers,

Can e'er for sin atone.

3 Relief alone is found

In Jesus' precious blood:

'Tis this that heals the mortal wound,

And reconciles to God.

114. Harvest Past. S. M.

1 I saw, beyond the tomb,

The awful Judge appear,

Pratt's Col.

Prepar'd to scan, with strict account,

My blessings wasted here.

2 His wrath, like flaming fire,
Burn'd to the lowest hell-
And in that hopeless world of wo
He bade my spirit dwell.

3 Ye sinners, fear the Lord,

While yet 'tis call'd to-day;
Soon will the awful voice of death
Command your souls away.

4 Soon will the harvest close-
The summer soon be o'er-
And soon your injur'd, angry God
Will hear your prayers no more.

INVITATION.

Dwight.

115. Invitation. 7, 6.

1 Sinner, hear the Saviour's call,
He now is passing by;
He has seen thy grievous thrall,
And heard thy mournful cry.
He has pardons to impart,

Grace to save thee from thy fears;
See the love that fills his heart,

And wipe away thy tears.

2 Why art thou afraid to come
And tell him all thy case?
He will not pronounce thy doom,
Nor frown thee from his face.
Wilt thou fear Immanuel ?

Wilt thou dread the Lamb of God,
Who, to save thy soul from hell,
Has shed his precious blood?

3 Think how on the cross he hung,

Pierc'd with a thousand wounds!
Hark, from each, as with a tongue,
The voice of pardon sounds!
See, from all his bursting veins,
Blood of wondrous virtue flow!
Shed to wash away thy stains,

And ransom thee from wo. /Newton.

116. Christ's Invitation. L. M.

1 "Come hither, all ye weary souls, "Ye heavy laden sinners, come: "I'll give you rest from all your toils, "And raise you to my heavenly home. 2 "They shall find rest that learn of me: "I'm of a meek and lowly mind; "But passion rages like the sea, "And pride is restless as the wind.

3 "Bless'd is the man whose shoulders take "My yoke, and bear it with delight; "My yoke is easy to his neck,

"My grace shall make the burden light." 4 Jesus, we come at thy command,

With faith, and hope, and humble zeal; Resign our spirits to thy hand,

To mould and guide us at thy will. Watts.

117. Sinners Invited to Christ. 8,7,4.

1 Come, ye weary, heavy laden,
Lost and ruin'd by the fall;
If you tarry till you're better,
You will never come at all:
Not the righteous-

Sinners Jesus came to call.

2 Let not conscience make you linger,
Nor of fitness fondly dream;

All the fitness he requireth,
Is to feel your need of him:
This he gives you—
'Tis the Spirit's rising beam.

3 Agonizing in the garden,

Lo! your Maker prostrate lies!
On the bloody tree behold him;
Hear him cry, before he dies,