4. The food's prepar'd by heav'nly art, 5. Shout and proclaim the SAVIOUR's love, 6. A thousand glories to the GoD § CDXLI. The Triumphal Feaft. C HOME let us lift our voices high. 2. JESUS, the God that fought and bled, 4. The LORD! how glorious is his face! How kind his fimiles appear! 5. And O what melting words he fays "For you the children of my love, 6." These are the wounds for you I bore, "The tokens of my pains; § CDXLII. Divine Glories and Graces. H Great GOD, how bright they shine! OW are thy glories here difplay'd, While at thy word we break the bread, 2. Here thy revenging juftice ftands 3. Thy faints attend with every grace On this great facrifice; 4. Our hope in waiting pofture fits, 5. Zeal and revenge perform their part; Repentance comes with aking heart, 6. Dear SAVIOUR, change our faith to fight, Let fin for ever die ; Then fhall our fouls be all delight, * CDXLIII. A Memorial till CHRIST Comes, 3. He whom we remember here, CHRIST fhall in the cloud's appear, Manifeft to ev'ry eye, We fhall foon behold Him nigh. 7. Gather'd to the well known fign, HYMNS 170 As pureft unapproached light, 2. And what, alas! is finful man, All ftain'd with old and recent guilt! 3. But beams of heav'nly light and truth, 4. Light fhews the guilt, grace wounds to heal, 5. He gave his fon, our dearest LORD, 7. (a) I'm thine, O LORD, and gladly feal 3. And hymn the great Redeemer's praise ! IV. Remiffion of Sins at Baptifm. OME lowly fouls that mourn, Wash'd in your Saviour's façred blood, Now call upon his name. ; Rejoice, ye contrite hearts, That tremble at his word In the baptifmal laver plung'd, As was your humble LORD. 2. Man, whom God made at first upright, Like a fair building, ruin'd lies; 4. Of Candidate fings this verse alone. grace and Glory too, Praise your Redeemer's love, and tell What he has done for you! 5. Unfpotted 1. VII. The Penitent purified by Baptifm. ALAS how foul I find I am! The LORD has made me fee. Who from this mass of fin and death Has ftrength to fet me free? 2. “ I can, I will, my SAVIOUR cried; "Water and blood both flow'd, "When on the crofs, from My pierc'd fide; "And straight the fountain fhew'd." 3. The wat'ry fount is typic blood, With joy I view the myftic flood, 4. Trembling I come, 'twixt faith and fear, And hope, and faft, and pray; O what a lovely Ocean's here, 5. Better than fam'd Siloam's pool, |