4 Hence, O my soul, a balsam flows
To heal thy wounds, and cure thy woes;
Immortal joys come streaming down,
Joys, like his griefs, immense, unknown.
5 Thus I could ever, ever sing

The sufferings of my heavenly King;
With growing pleasures spread abroad
The mysteries of a dying GOD.

BEDDOME

478 L.M. Wareham 117. Green's Hundred 89.

Meditating on the Cross of CHRIST.

1 COME see on bloody Calvary,
Suspended on th' accursed tree,

A harmless suff'rer cover'd o'er
With shame, and welt'ring in his gore:
2 Is this the Saviour long foretold
To usher in the age of gold?

To make the reign of sorrow cease,
And bind the jarring world in peace?
3 'Tis he, 'tis he!—he kindly shrouds
His glories in a night of clouds,
That souls might from their ruin rise,
And heir th' unperishable skies.
4 See, to their refuge and their rest,
From all the bonds of guilt releas'd,
Transgressors to his cross repair
And find a full redemption there.
5 JESUS! what millions of our race
Have been the triumphs of thy grace!
And millions more to thee shall fly,
And on thy sacrifice rely.

6 That tree, that curse-empoison'd tree,
Which prov'd a bloody rack to thee,
Shall in the noblest blessings shoot,
And fill the nations with its fruit.

7 The sorrow, shame, and death were Thine,
And all the stores of wrath divine!.
Ours are the glory, life, and bliss;
What love can be compar'd to this!

479 L. M. Old Hund. 100. Angel's Hymn 60,

Set him above all Principalities and Powers-Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive Glory and Blessing, Ephes. i. 21; Rev. v. 12.

1

OW far above the starry skies,

Now

Our JESUS fills his brighter throne,

Invisible to mortal eyes,

But not to humble faith unknown.

2 [The countless hosts that round him stand,
The subjects of his sovereign power,
Fly thro' the world at his command,
Or prostrate at his feet adore.
3 Satan and all his rebel crew
That rag'd to pull his kingdom down,
Crush'd by his hand, in ruin now
Lie trembling at his awful frown.
4 His name above all creatures great,
He all sustains and all controuls!
Yet from his high exalted state
Looks kindly down on humble souls.]
5 Tho' in the glories he possess'd,
Long ere this world, or time began,
He shines the SON of GOD confess'd,
Yet owns himself the Son of MAN.
6 Here once in agonies he died,

Now in the heavens he ever lives;
Of joy there pours th' eternal tide,
Here saves the sinner who believes.
7 All hail! thou great IMMANUEL, hail!
Ten thousand blessings on thy name!
While thus thy wondrous love we tell,
Our bosoms feel the sacred flame.
8 Come, quickly come, immortal King!
On earth thy regal honours raise,
The full salvation, promis'd, bring,
Then every tongue shall sing thy praise!

D. TURNER.

480 L.M. Ailie Street 241. Redemption 243.

1

Now

Love on a Cross and a Throne.

OW let our faith grow strong, and rise And view our Lord in all his love; Look back to hear his dying cries, Then mount and see his throne above. 2 See where he languish'd on the cross; Beneath our sins he groan'd and died; See where he sits to plead our cause, By his Almighty Father's side. 3 If we behold his bleeding heart, There love in floods of sorrow reigns; He triumphs o'er the killing smart, And seals our pleasure with his pains. 4 Or, if we climb th' eternal hills, Where the dear Conqu'ror sits enthron'd, Still in his heart compassion dwells, Near the memorials of his wound. 5 How shall vile pardon'd rebels show How much they love their dying GOD? LORD! here we'd banish every foe, We hate the sins that cost thy blood. 6 Commerce no more we hold with hell, Our dearest lusts shall all depart; But let thine image ever dwell, Stamp'd as a seal on every heart.

DR. WATTS'S LYRICS.

481 L. M. Portugal 97. Rippon's 188.

1

The Triumphs of the Cross.

No more, dear Saviour! will I boast

Of beauty, wealth, or loud applause: The world hath all its glories lost, Amid the triumphs of thy cross. 2 In every feature of thy face, Beauty her fairest charms displays; Truth wisdom, majesty, and grace,

3 Thy wealth the power of thought transcends, "Tis vast, immense, and all divine: Thy empire, LORD! o'er worlds extends, The sun, the moon, the stars are thine. 4 Yet, (O how marvellous the sight!) I see thee on a cross expire; Thy Godhead veil'd in sable night; And angels from the scene retire.

5 But why from these sad scenes retreat?
Why with your wings your faces hide?
He ne'er appear'd so good, so great,
As when he bow'd his head and died.
6 The indignation of a GOD

On him avenging justice hurl'd;
Beneath the weight he firmly stood,
And nobly sav❜d a falling world.
7 Those triumphs of stupendous grace
Surprise, rejoice, and melt my heart:
LORD! at thy cross I stand and
gaze,
Nor would I ever thence depart!

482 C. M. C. M.

DR. S. STENNETT.

Wantage 204. Burford 198,
A Sacramental Hymn.

1 LORD! at thy table I behold
The wonders of thy grace;

But most of all admire that I
Should find a welcome place:-

2 I that am all defil'd with sin,
A rebel to my GOD;

I that have crucify'd his Son,
And trampled on his blood→→→→

3 What strange surprising grace is this,
That such a soul has room!

My Saviour takes me by the hand,
My Jesus bids me come.

4 Eat, O my friends, the Saviour cries,
The feast was made for you;

For you I groan'd, and bled, and died,
And rose, and triumph'd toó.

5 With trembling faith, and bleeding hearts, LORD! we accept thy love:

"Tis a rich banquet we have had,
What will it be above?

6 Ye saints below, and hosts of heaven,"
Join all your praising powers;
No theme is like redeeming love,
No Saviour is like ours.

7 Had I ten thousand hearts, dear LORD!
I'd give them all to thee;
Had I ten thousand tongues, they all
Should join the harmony. DR. J. STENNETT,

483 C.M. Bangor 231. Worksop 31.
My flesh is meat indeed, John vi. 53-55.

1

HERE at thy table, LORD! we meet

To feed on food divine :

Thy body is the bread we eat,
Thy precious blood the wine.

2 He that prepares the rich repast,
Himself comes down and dies;
And then invites us thus to feast
Upon the sacrifice.

3 The bitter torments he endur'd
Upon the shameful cross,

For us, his welcome guests, procur'd
These heart-reviving joys.

4 His body, torn with rudest hands
Becomes the finest bread;

And with the blessing he commands,
Our noblest hopes are fed.

5 His blood, that from each op'ning vein
In purple torrents ran,

Hath fill'd this cup with gen'rous wine,
That cheers both Gop and man.