3. 4. We have no biding city here, Patient th' appointed race to run, 5. Thither in all our thoughts we tend, 6. Who bring us news of Sion near, That palace of our KING; 7. Thro' Thee, who all our fins hath borne, 8. E'en now we tafte the pleasures there, A cloud of odours comes; Soft wafted by the balmy air, Sweet as Araby's gums. 1. L' Religion. ET everlafting glories crown Thy head, our SAVIOUR, and our LORD; Thy hands have brought falvation down, [2. What if we trace the globe around,” 4. Thy promifes, how firm they be ! How firm our hope and comfort stands ! 5. Not the fam'd fields of Heath'nish bliss Could raise fuch pleasures in the mind; Nor does the Turkish paradife 6. Should all the forms, that men devife, 2. § CLXXX. The Invitation of the Gospel. LET ev'ry mortal ear attend, And ev'ry heart rejoice; The trumpet of the Gospel founds 2. Ho, all ye hungry ftarving fouls, 3. Eternal Wisdom has prepar'd And bids your longing appetites 4. Ho, ye that pant for living streams, Here ye may quench your raging thirst, 5. Rivers of love and mercy here In a rich ocean join; Like floods of milk and wine. [6. Ye perishing and naked poor; Who work, with mighty pain, CLXXXI. Chrift our Strength. ET me but hear my SAVIOUR fay, Strength fhall be equal to thy day:" Then I rejoice in deep distress, Leaning on all-fufficient grace. 2. I glory in infirmity, ; That CHRIST's own pow'r may reft on me; When I am weak, then am I ftrong, Grace is my fhield, and CHRIST my fong. 3. I can do all things, or can bear All fuff'rings, if my LORD be there Sweet pleasures mingle with the pains, While his left-hand my head fuftains. But if the LORD be once withdrawn, And we attempt the work alone; When new temptations fpring and rife, We find how great our weakness is: 5. So Sampfon, when his hair was loft, Met the Philistines to his coft, 4. I. Shook his vain limbs with fad furprize, Made feeble fight, and loft his eyes. CLXXXII. God our Preferver, 1. LET others boaft how ftrong they be, Nor death nor danger fear; But we'll confefs, O LORD, to thee, What feeble things we are. 2. Fresh CLXXXIV. An Ordination Hymn. "L' ET Sion's watch-men all awake, And take th' alarm they give! Now let them from the mouth of GoD, Their aweful charge receive! 2. 'Tis not a cause of finall import, The paftor's care demands But what might fill an angel's heart; And's in the SAVIOUR'S hands. 3. They watch for fouls (for which the Lord Did heav'nly blifs forego) For fouls, which muft for ever live, 4. All to the great tribunal hafte, Th' account to render there; And should'ft Thou strictly mark our faults, 5. May they, that JESUS whom they preach, Their own Redeemer fee! And watch Thou daily o'er their fouls, CLXXXV. Praise to God for Creation LET them neglect Thy glory, LORD, Who never knew Thy grace; But our loud fong fhall ftill record 2. We raise our fhouts, O GOD, to thee, Thy ever bleffed fon! 3. 'Twas He (and we'll adore his name) That form'd us by a word "T [7" The faint that triumphs o'er his fins, I'll own him for a fon; "The whole creation fhall reward "The conqueft he has won. 8." But bloody hands, and hearts unclean, "And all the lying race, "The faithlefs and the fcoffing crew, "That fpurn at offer'd grace. 9." They fhall be taken from my fight, "Bound faft in iron chains; "And headlong plung'd into the lake. "Where fire and darkness reigns."] 10. O may I ftand before the LAMB, When earth and feas are fled; And hear the judge pronounce my name, With bleffings on my head! CLXXXVII. Custom in Sin. ET the wild leopards of the wood Put off the fpots that nature gives; Then may the wicked turn to GOD, And change their tempers and their lives. 2. As well might Ethiopian flaves 1 Wash out the darkness of their fkin ; 3. Where vice has held its empire long, 4. Great GOD, I own Thy pow'r divine, 1. And I. § CLXXXIX. Public Worfbip. 6-8s. O, GOD is here! let us adore, L° 3. Gladly the toys of earth we leave, Thy courts with grateful fragrance fill ; 5. In Thee we move. All things of thee CXC. Christ's fecond Coming. 67. (a) And own how dreadful is this place! 1. One for favor'd finners flain! Let all within us feel his pow'r, Who know His pow'r, His grace who prove, LO! He comes with clouds defcending Thoufand, thousand faints attending Thofe (a) Drop the Italicks and ufe Oliver's tune |