How the black gulph, where satan lies,
Yawn'd to receive me when I fell !

3 How justice frown'd, and vengeance stood,
To drive me down to endless pain!
But the great Son propos'd his blood,
And heav'nly wrath grew mild again.

4 Infinite Lover! gracious Lord!
To thee be endless honours giv'n :
Thy wond'rous name shall be ador'd,
Round the wide earth, and wider heav'n.

I

HYMN XXII. Long Metre.
With God is terrible Majesty.

:

TERRIBLE GOD, who reign'st on high, is thy thund'ring hand!

Thy fiery bolts, how fierce they fly!
Nor can all earth or hell withstand.

2 This the old rebel-angels knew,
And fatan fell beneath thy frown:
Thine arrows ftruck the traitor through,
And weighty vengeance funk him down.

3 This Sodom felt and feels it still-
And roars beneath th' eternal load:
"With endless burnings who can dwell,
"Or bear the fury of a God?"

4 Tremble, ye sinners, and submit;
Throw down your arms before his throne :
Bend your heads low beneath his feet,
Or his ftrong hand shall crush you down.

5 And ye, bless'd faints, that love him too,
With rev'rence bow before his name;
Thus all his heav'nly fervants do:
God is a bright and burning flame.

I

HYMN XXIII. Long Metre.
The Sight of God and Christ in Heaven.

D

ESCEND from heav'n, immortal Dove,
Stoop down, and take us on thy wings;

And mount, and bear us far above
The reach of these inferior things:

2 Beyond, beyond this lower sky,
Up where eternal ages roll;
Where folid pleasures never die,
And fruits immortal feast the foul.

30 for a fight, a pleasing fight,
Of our almighty Father's throne !
There fits our Saviour, crown'd with light,
Cloth'd in a body like our own.

4 Adoring saints around him stand,
And thrones and pow'rs before him fall;
The God shines gracious through the man,
And sheds sweet glories on them all !

5 O what amazing joys they feel,
While to their golden harps they fing;
And fit on ev'ry heav'nly hill,
And spread the triumphs of their King !

6 When shall the day, dear Lord, appear,
That I shall mount to dwell above;
And stand, and bow amongst them there,
And view thy face, and fing, and love?
HYMN XXIV. Long Metre.
The Evil of Sin visible in the Fall of Angels and Men.
HEN the great Builder arch'd the skies,
And form'd all nature with a word;

I

WH

The joyful cherubs tun'd his praife,
And ev'ry bending throne ador'd.

2 High, in the midst of all the throng,
Satan, a tall arch-angel, fat;
Amongst the morning stars he sung,
Till fan destroy'd his heav'nly state.
3 ['Twas fin that hurl'd him from his throne,
Grov'ling in fire, the rebel lies;
How art thou funk in darkness down,
Son of the morning, from the skies

4 And thus our two first parents stood,
Till fin defil'd the happy place:
They loft their garden, and their God,
And ruin'd all their unborn race.

5 [So fprung the plague from Adam's bow'r,
And fpread deftruction all abroad;
Sin, the curs'd name, that in one hour
Spoil'd fix days labour of a God.]

6 Tremble, my foul, and mourn for grief,
That such a foe should feize thy breast;
Fly to thy Lord for quick relief;
Oh! may he flay this treach'rous guest.
Then to thy throne, victorious King,
Then to thy throne our shout shall rife;
Thine everlasting arms we fing,
For fin, the monster, bleeds and dies.

• HYMN XXV. Common Metre.

Complaining of Spiritual Sloth.

MY drowsy pow'rs, why fleep ye fo!

Awake my fluggish soul!
Nothing has half thy work to do;
Yet nothing's half so dull !
The little ants for one poor grain,
Labour, and tug, and strive;
Yet we, who have a heav'n t' obtain,
How negligent we live!

3 We, for whose fake all nature stands,
And stars their courses move;
We, for whose guard, the angel-bands
• Come flying from above :

We, for whom God the Son came down,
And labour'd for our good;
How careless to secure that crown
He purchas'd with his blood!
5 Lord, shall we lie so sluggish still,
And never act our parts?

Come, holy Dove, from th' heav'nly hill,
And fit and warm our hearts!

6 Then shall our active spirits move;
Upward our fouls shall rise :
With hands of faith, and wings of love,
We'll fly, and take the prize.

I

HYMN XXVI.

Long Metre.

God invisible.

LORD, we are blind, poor mortals, blind,

can't behold thy bright abode;

O! 'tis beyond a creature's mind,
To glance a thought half-way to God.

2 Infinite leagues beyond the sky,
The great ETERNAL reigns alone;
Where neither wings, nor fouls can fly,
Nor angels climb the toplefs throne.

3 The Lord of glory builds his feat
Of gems incomparably bright;
And lays beneath his facred feet
Substantial beams of gloomy night.

4 Yet, glorious Lord, thy gracious eyes
Look through, and cheer us from above;
Beyond our praise thy grandeur flies,
Yet we adore, and yet we love.

HYMN XXVII. Long Metre. Praise ye him, all his Angels. Pfalm cxlviii. 2.

I

3

OD! the eternal, awful name,

GOD

That the whole heav'nly army fears,

That shakes the wide creation's frame,
And fatan trembles when he hears.

Like flames of fire his servants are,

And light furrounds his dwelling-place;

But, O, ye fiery flames, declare

The brighter glories of his face.

'Tis not for fuch poor worms as we

To speak fo infinite a thing;

But your immortal eyes survey
The beauties of your sov'reign King.
4 Tell how he shews his smiling face,
And clothes all heav'n in bright array;
Triumph and joy run through the place,
And fongs eternal as the day.

5 Speak-for you feel his burning love-
What zeal it spreads through all your frame !
That facred fire dwells all above,
For we, on earth, have loft the name.

6 [Sing of his pow'r and justice too;
That infinite right hand of his,
That vanquish'd satan and his crew,
When thunder drove them down from bliss.]

7 What mighty storms of poifon'd darts
Were hurl'd upon the rebels there!
What deadly jav'lins nail'd their hearts
Faft to the racks of long despair !

8 [Shout to your King, ye heav'nly host;
You that beheld the finking foe;
Firmly ye stood when they were lost;
Praise the rich grace that kept ye so,

9 Proclaim his wonders from the skies;
Let ev'ry diftant nation hear;
And, while you found his lofty praise,
Let humble mortals bow and fear.]

HYMN XXVIII. Common Metre.

I

Death and Eternity.

STOOP down, my thoughts, that use to

a

Converse
Think how a gafping mortal lies,
And pants away his breath.

while death:

2 His quiv'ring lip hangs feebly down,
His pulse is faint and few:
Then, speechless, with a doleful groan,
He bids the world adieu.

rife,