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Inspir'd by love, he liv'd and taught;

Inspir’d by love, he died.
3 And do you love him? do you feel

Your warm affections move?
This is the proof which he demands,

That you each other love.
4 Let each the sacred law fulfil,

Like his be ev'ry mind;
Be ev'ry temper form’d by love,

And ev'ry action kind. 5 Let none, who call themselves his friends

Disgrace the honour'd name;
But by a near resemblance prove
The title which they claim.

L. M. 523. Aleditating on the Cross of Christ, i COME see on bloody Calvary,

Suspended on th' accursed tree, A hai'mless suffører cover'd o'er

With shame, and weltring 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! § 'Tis He, 'tis He!--he kindly shrouds

His glories in a night of clouds,
That souls might from their ruin rise,
And heir th’ imperishable skies.
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.

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C. M. 524.

A Sacramental Hymn. · LORD, at thy table I behold

The wonders of thy grace ; But most of all admire that I

Should find a welcome place: 2 ) that am all defil'd with sin,

A rebel to my God;
I that have crucified 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.
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 too.'
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,
I Had I ten thousand hearts, dear Lord,

I'll give them all to thee:
Had I ten thousand tongues, they all
Should join the harmony.

C. M. 525.

My flesh 18 meat indeed. John vi. 53–55, НЕ [ERE at thy table, Lord, we meet

To feed on food divine: Thy body is the bread we eat, Thy precious blood the wine.

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2 He that, prepares this rich repast,

Himself comes down and dies;
And then invites us thus to feast

Upon the sacrifice.
His body torn with rudest hands

Lecoines the finest bread;
And, with the blessing he commands,

Our noblest hopes are fed.
His blood, that from each op'ning vein

In purple torrents ran,
Hath fill d this cup with gen'rous wine,

That cheers both God and man. 5 Sure there was never love so free,

Dear Saviour, so divine! Well thou may'st claim that heart of mo,

Which owes so mueh to thine. 6 Yes, thou shalt surely have my heart,

My soul, my strength, my all ; With life itself I'll freely part,

My Jesus, at thy call. 526. (395.) L. M. MY

God! and is thy table spread?

And does thy cup with love o'erflow! Thither be all thy children led,

And let them all its sweetness know. 2 O let thy table honour'd be,

And furnish'd well with joyful guests;
And may each soul salvation see,

That here its sacred pledges tastes. 8 Let crowds approacha; with hearts prepar'ds

With warm desire let all attend;
Nor, when we leave our Father's board,

The pleasure or the profit end.
• Revive thy dying churches, Lord!
And bid our drooping graces live;


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