6. Not all the men on earth can do, Nor pow'rs on high nor pow'rs below, Shall cause his mercy to remove,

Or wean our hearts from Christ our love.

XV. Our own weakness, and Christ our strength, a Cor. xii. 7, 9, 10.

LET me but hear my Saviour say

Strength shall be equal to the day,
Then I rejoice in deep distress,
Leaning on all-sufficient grace.

2. I glory in infirmity

That Christ's own pow'r may rest on met
When I am weak then am I strong;
Grace is my shield and Christ my song.

3. I can do all things, or can bear
All suff'rings if my Lord be there;
Sweet pleasures mingle with the pains
While his left hand my head sustains.

4. But if the Lord be once withdrawn,
And we attempt the work alone,
When new temptations spring and rise
We find how great our weakness is.

5. So Sampson when his hair was lost
Met the Philistines to his cost,
Shook his vain limbs with sad-surprise,
Made feeble fight and lost his eyes.

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XVI. Hosanna to Christ, Matth. xxi. 9. Luke xix. 38, 40.

HOSANNA to the royal Son

Of David's ancient line!

His natures two, his person one,
Mysterious and divine.

2. The root of David here we find

And offspring is the same ;
Eternity and time are join'd
In our Emanuel's name.

3. Bless'd he that comes to wretched men

With peaceful news from heav'n!
Hosannas of the highest strain

To Christ the Lord be giv'n!

4. Let mortals ne'er refuse to take

Th' hosanna on their tongues,

Lest rocks and stones should rise and break
Their silence into songs.

XVII. Victory over death, 1 Cor. xv. 55, 56.

O FOR an overcoming faith

To cheer my dying hours,

To triumph o'er the monster Death

And all his frightful pow'rs!

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2. Joyful with all the strength I have
My quiv'ring lips should sing
"Where is thy boasted vict'ry grave?
"And where the monster's sting?"

3. If sin be pardon'd I'm secure,
Death hath no sting beside;
The law gives sin its damning pow'r,
But Christ my ransom dy'd.

4. Now to the God of victory

Immortal thanks be paid,

Who makes us conqu'rors while we die

Thro' Christ our living head,

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XVIII. Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord, Rev. Χιν. 13.

HEAR what the voice from heav'n proclaims

For all the pious dead,

Sweet is the favour of their names

And soft their sleeping bed.

2. They die in Jesus and are bless'd;
How kind their slumber's are!
From suff'rings and from sins releas'd,
And freed from ev'ry snare.

3. Far from this world of toil and strife

They 're present with the Lord;
The labours of their mortal life

End in a large reward.
Watts.]

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XIX. The song of Simeon, or death made desirable, Luke i.

27, &c.

Lond! at thy temple we appear,
As happy Simeon came,

And hope to meet our Saviour here,
O make our joys the same!

2. With what divine and vast delight
The good old man was fill'd
When fondly to his wither'd arms
He clasp'd the holy Child!

3.

"Now I can leave this world," he cry'd,

"Behold thy servant dies,

"I'ave seen thy great salvation Lord! "And close my peaceful eyes.

4.

"This is the light prepar'd to shine "Upon the Gentile lands, "Thine Israel's glory and their hope "To break their slavish bands."

[5. Jesus! the vision of thy face

Hath overpow'ring charms;

Scarce shall I feel Death's cold embrace

If Christ be in my arms.

6. Then will ye hear my heart-strings break;

How sweet my minutes roli!

A mortal paleness on my cheek,

And glory in my soul.]

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XX. Spiritual apparel, namely, the robe of righteousness and garments of salvation, Isa. Ixi. 10.

AWAKE my heart, arise my tongue,

Prepare a tuneful voice;

In God the life of all my joys

Aloud will I rejoice.

2. 'Tis he adorn'd my naked soul
And made salvation mine;
Upon a poor polluted worm
He makes his graces shine.

3 And lest the shadow of a spot

Should on my soul be found,

He took the robe the Saviour wrought
And cast it all around.

4. How far the heav'nly robe exceeds
What earthly princes wear!
These ornaments how bright they shinet
How white the garments are!

5. The Spirit wrought my faith and love,
And hope, and ev'ry grace,
But Jesus spent his life to work
The robe of righteousness.

6. Strangely my soul art thou array'd

By the Great Sacred Three!
In sweetest harmony of praise

Let all thy pow'rs agree.

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