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Men. We with transcendent Glory bright
Have CHRIST himself put on.
Ang. Spirits like him he made us be,
A pure Æthereal Flane :
Crowns he to us imparts :
We Angels never fell :
His Love preserv'd us true ;
The nobler Grace is giv’n:
Till we all meet in Heav'n.
An Int'rest in the Saviour's Blood!
Amazing Love! how can it be
Who can explore his strange Design? In vain the first born Seraph tries
To found the Depths of Love Divine ;
(So free, fo infinite his Grace !) Empty'd himself of All, but Love,
And bled for Adam's helpless Race ; 'Tis Mercy all, immense and free! For, O my God, it found out me!
lv. Long my imprison'd Spirit lay,
Faft bound in Sin and Nature's Night; Thine Eye diffu'd a quick’ning Ray;
I woke ; the Dungeon flam'd with Light ;
That whispers all my Sins forgiv'n:
That quench'd the Wrath of hoftile Heay'n :
Jesus, and all in him, is mine ;
And cloath'd in Righteousness divine, Bold I approach th' eternal Throne, And claim the Crown, thro' CHRIST, my own.
F 1 N I S.