There's nothing here deserves my joys,-
There's nothing like my God.

3 [In vain the bright, the burning sun
Scatters his feeble light:

"Tis thy sweet beams create my noon;
If thou withdraw, 'tis night.

4 And whilst upon my restless bed,
Amongst the shades I roll;

If my Redeemer shows his head,
"Tis morning to my soul.]

5 To thee we owe our wealth, and friends, And health, and safe abode;

Thanks to thy Name for meaner things,-
But they are not my God.

6 How vain a toy is glitt'ring wealth,
If once compar'd to thee?
Or what's my safety or my health,
Or all my friends to me?

7 Were I possessor of the earth,
And call'd the stars my own;
Without thy graces and Thyself,
I were a wretch undone.

8 Let others stretch their arms like seas,
And grasp in all the shore;
Grant me the visits of thy face,

And I desire no more.

HYMN 95. C. M. Bishopsgate. [b]

Looking on Him whom we pierced. [NFINITE grief! amazing wo!— Behold my bleeding Lord!

-Hell and the Jews conspir'd his death,
And us'd the Roman sword.

p 2 Oh, the sharp pangs of smarting pain,
My dear Redeemer bore-

When knotty whips, and ragged thorns,
His sacred body tore.

3. But knotty whips, and ragged thorns,
In vain do I accuse;

In vain I blame the Roman bands,
And the more spiteful Jews.

4 "Twere you, my sins, my cruel sins,
II's chief tormentors were;

Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief a spear.

5 "Twere you that pull'd the vengeance down Upon his guiltless head:

o Break, break, my heart, oh, burst, mine eyes, And let my sorrows bleed.

e

o 6 Strike, mighty grace, my flinty soul,
Till melting waters flow!

And deep repentance drown mine eyes
In undissembled wo.

HYMN 96. C. M. Isle of Wight. [b *]
Angels punished, and Man saved.

1 DOWN headlong from their native skies,

The rebel angels fell;

• And thunder-bolts of flaming wrath Pursu'd them deep to hell.

2 Down from the top of earthly bliss, Rebellious man was hurl'd;

c And Jesus stoop'd beneath the grave, To reach a sinking world.

o 3 Oh, love of infinite degree ! Unmeasurable grace!

e Must heaven's eternal Darling die,
To save a trait'rous race?

p 4 Must angels sink for ever down,
And burn in quenchless fire-
-While God forsakes his shining throne,
To raise us wretches higher?

85 Oh, for this love, let earth and skies
With hallelujahs ring;

e 1

a

And the full choir of human tongues
All hallelujahs sing.

HYMN 97. L. M. Psalm 97th. [b *]

The same.

FROM heaven the sinning angels feil,

And wrath and darkness chain'd them e But man, vile man, forsook his bliss- [down; o And mercy lifts him to a crown.

g 2 Amazing work of sovereign grace,
That could distinguish rebels so!
Our guilty treason call'd aloud

For everlasting fetters too

o 3 To thee, to thee, almighty Love,
Our souls, ourselves, our all we pay;
s Millions of tongues shall sound thy praise,
On the bright hills of heavenly day.

HYMN 98. C. M. Windsor. Wantage. [b]
Hardness of Heart complained of.

1

MY heart, how dreadful hard it is!

How heavy here it lies!

Heavy and cold within my breast,
Just like a rock of ice!

2 Sin, like a raging tyrant, sits
Upon this flinty throne;
And ev'ry grace lies bury'd deep,
Beneath this heart of stone.

3 How seldom do I rise to God,
Or taste the joys above!

This mountain presses down my faith,
And chills my flaming love.

4 When smiling mercy courts my soul,
With all its heavenly charms
This stubborn, this relentless thing,
Would thrust it from my arms
5 Against the thunders of thy word,
Rebellious I have stood;

My heart-it shakes not at the wrath,
And terrours, of a God.

6 Dear Saviour, steep this rock of mine
In thine own crimson sea!
None but a bath of blood divine,
Can melt the flint away.

HYMN 99. C. M. Bedford. [b*]
The Book of God's Decrees.

1 [ET the whole race of creatures lie,
Abas'd, before their God:

---Whate'er his sovereign voice has forin'd
He governs with a nod.

e 2 (Ten thousand ages ere the skies
Were into motion brought,-

All the long years and worlds to come
Stood present to his thought

--3 There's not a sparrow, nor a worm,
But's found in his decrees;

. He raises monarchs to their thrones, And sinks them as he please.)

e

o 4 If light attends the course I run,
"Tis he provides those rays:
e And 'tis his hand that hides my sun,
If darkness clouds my days.

-5 Yet I could not be much concern'd,
Nor vainly long to see

The volumes of his deep decrees,
What months are writ for me.
e 6 When he reveals the book of life,
Oh, may I read my name

o Amongst the chosen of his love,
The foll'wers of the Lamb.]

HYMN 100. L. M. Carthage. [b] Presence of Christ the Life of my Soul. [HOW full of anguish is the thought,

How it distracts and tears my heart,-
If God at last, my sovereign Judge,
Should frown, and bid my soul-depart!
2 Lord, when I quit this earthly stage,
Where shall I fly-but to thy breast?
For I have sought no other home:
For I have learn'd no other rest.

3 I cannot live contented here,
Without some glimpses of thy face;
And heaven, without thy presence there,
Will be a dark and tiresome place.

4 When earthly cares engross the day,
And hold my thoughts aside from thee,
The shining hours of cheerful light
Are long and tedious years to me.
5 And if no evening visit's paid
Between my Saviour and my soul,
How dull the night! how sad the shade!
How mournfully the minutes roll!

6 This flesh of mine might learn as soon
To live, yet part with all my blood;
To breathe, when vital air is gone,
Or thrive and grow without my food.
7 (Christ is my light, my life, my care,
My blessed hope, my heavenly prize;
Dearer than all my passions are,
My limbs, my bowels, or my eyes.

8 The strings that twine about my heart, Tortures and racks may tear them off; But they can never, never part

With their dear hold of Christ, my Love.)
9 My God-and can a humble child,
Who loves thee with a flame so high,
Be ever from thy face exil'd,
Without the pity of thine eye?

10 Impossible!-For thine own hands
Have ty'd my heart so fast to thee;
And in thy book the promise stands,
That where thou art, thy friends must be.]

1

[W

HYMN 101. C. M. Bangor. [*]
The World's three chief Temptations.
VHEN, in the light of faith divine,
We look on things below,-
Honour, and gold, and sensual joy,
How vain and dangerous too!
2 (Honour's a puff of noisy breath;
Yet men expose their blood,
And venture everlasting death,
To gain that airy good.

3 While others starve the nobler mind,
And feed on shining dust;
They rob the serpent of his food,

T' indulge a sordid lust.)

4 The pleasures that allure our sense
Are dang'rous snares to souls;
There's but a drop of flatt ring sweet,
And dash'd with bitter bowls.

5 God is mine all-sufficient good,
My portion and my choice;
In him my vast desires are fill'd,
And all my powers rejoice.

6 In vain the world accosts my ear,
And tempts my heart anew;

I cannot buy your bliss so dear,
Nor part with heaven for you.]

HYMN 102. L. M. Armley. [b*]
A happy Resurrection.

No, I'll repine at death no more,
But with a cheerful gasp resign,