The fount of life shall then be quaffed
In peace, by all who come!
And every wind that blows shall waft
Some long-lost exile home!

431. H. M.

1 COME, sing a Savior's power, And praise his mighty name; His wondrous love adore,

And chant his growing fame; Wide o'er the world a King shall reign, And righteousness and peace maintain.

2 The sceptre of his grace

He shall for ever wield;

His foes, before his face,

To strength divine shall yield;

The conquest of his truth shall show
What an almighty arm can do.

3 His alienated sons,

By sin beguiled, betrayed,
Shall be reclaim'd at once,

And willing subjects made:
Such numbers shall his courts adorn,
As dew-drops of the vernal morn.

4 His realm shall ever stand,
By wisdom's arm upheld,
And, from his bounteous hand,
All hearts with joy be filled;

A universe with praise shall own
The cloudless honors of his throne.

432. L. M.

1 JESUS shall reign where'er the sun Does his successive journeys run; His kingdom stretch from shore to shore, Till moons shall wax and wane no more. 2 Blessings abound where'er he reigns; The prisoner leaps to loose his chains; The weary find eternal rest,

And all the sons of want are blest.

3 Where he displays his healing power,
Death and the curse are known no more;
In him the tribes of Adam boast
More blessings than their father lost.
4 Let every creature rise and bring
Peculiar honors to their King;
Angels descend with songs again,
And earth repeat the long Amen.

433. C. M.

1 O'ER mountain tops, the mount of God, In latter days, shall rise,

Above the summits of the hills,
And draw the wondering eyes.
2 To this the joyful nations round,
All tribes and tongues, shall flow;
Up to the mount of God,' they say,
And to his house we'll go.'

6

3 The beams that shine from Zion's hill
Shall lighten every land;

The King who reigns in Salem's towers
Shall the whole world command.

DEATH OF CHRIST.

434. L. M.

1 HE dies! the Friend of sinners dies! Lo, Salem's daughters weep around! A solemn darkness veils the skies! A sudden trembling shakes the ground! 2 Come, mortals, drop a tear or two

For him who groaned beneath your load! He shed a thousand drops for youA thousand drops of richest blood! 3 Here's love and grief beyond degree; The Lord of glory dies for men ;But lo, what sudden joys we see ! Jesus, the dead, revives again!

4 The rising Lord forsakes the tombThe tomb in vain forbids his riseCherubic legions guard him home,

And shout him welcome to the skies! 5 Break off your tears, ye mortals, tell How high our great deliverer reigns; Sing how he spoiled the pow'rs of hell, And led the monster, Death, in chains.

6 Say, Live for ever, wondrous King, Born to redeem, and strong to save;' Then ask the monster, Where's thy sting? And where's thy victory boasting grave?

1 'Tis finished! so the Savior cried, And meekly bowed his head, and died: 'Tis finished-yes, the race is run, The battle fought, the victory won. 2 'Tis finished-all that Heaven decreed, And all the ancient prophets said Is now fulfilled, as was designed, In me, the Savior of mankind. 3 'Tis finished-let the joyful sound Be heard by all the nations round: "Tis finished-let the echo fly

Through earth below, and worlds on high.

436. C. M.

1 THERE is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Immanuel's veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.

2 The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day:

may

I there, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away.

3 Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood Shall never lose its power,

Till all the ransomed of our God
Be saved, to sin no more.

4 Soon shall this lisping, stam'ring tongue Lie silent in the grave,

Then, in a nobler, sweeter song,
I'll sing thy power to save.

437. L. M.

1 WHEN We survey the wondrous cross On which the Prince of glory died, Our richest gain we count but loss,

And pour contempt on all our pride. 2 Forbid it, Lord, that we should boast,

Save in the death of Christ our Lord; All the vain things that charm us most, We sacrifice them to his blood.

3 See from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet?
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
438. C. M.

1 WITH warm affection let us view,
With pious grief improve,
The solemn and impressive scene,
Of Jesus' dying love.

2 Not all the malice of his foes,

His pity could subdue;

Father! forgive,' he meekly prayed,`
They know not what they do.'

3 O what a love was here displayed,
Beyond our utmost thought!
How pure the lessons, how sublime,
In life and death he taught!

4 Let not his sacred truths, by us
Be lost, or misapplied;

Nor let our thoughtless hearts forget
That 'twas for us he died.