2 We raise our shouts, O God, to thee, And fend them to thy throne ;
The undivided ONE.
3 'Twas He, (and we'll adore his name)
Who form'd us by a word;
'Twas He restor'd our ruin'd frame :
Salvation to the Lord!
4 Hofanna! let the earth and skies
Repeat the joyful found;
Rocks, hills, and vales, reflect the voice
In one eternal round.
HYMN XXXVI. Short Metre.
Chrift's Interceffion.
WELL, the Redeemer's gone
appear before our God,
To fprinkle o'er the flaming throne
With his atoning blood.
No fiery vengeance now,
No burning wrath comes down;
If justice calls for finner's blood,
The Saviour thews his own.
Before his Father's eye
Our humble suit he moves ;
The Father lays his thunder by,
And looks, and smiles, and loves.
Now may our joyful tongues
Our Maker's honour fing;
Jesus, the Priest, receives our fongs,
And bears them to the King.
[We bow before his face,
And found his glories high:
"Hofanna to the God of grace,
"Who lays his thunder by.]
"On earth thy mercy reigns,
"And triumphs all above;
Hernel Got of anity
"But, Lord, how weak are mortal strains
"To speak immortal love!
["How jarring, and how low,
"Are all the notes we fing!
"Sweet Saviour, tune our fongs anew,
"And they shall please the King."]
HYMN XXXVII. Common Metre.
IFT up your eyes to th' heav'nly seats,
Where your Redeemer stays:
Kind Interceffor, there he fits,
And loves, and pleads, and prays.
'Twas well, my foul, he dy'd for thee,
And shed his vital blood;
Appeas'd stern justice on the tree,
And then arose to God.
3 Petitions now, and praise may rife,
And faints their off'rings bring;
The Priest, with his own sacrifice,
Presents them to the King.
[Let Papists truft what names they please,
Their saints and angels boaft;
We've no fuch advocates as thefe,
Nor pray to th' heav'nly hoft.]
3 Jesus alone shall bear my cries
Up to his Father's throne;
He, dearest Lord, perfumes my fighs,
And sweetens ev'ry groan.
6 [Ten thousand praises to the King,
Hosanna in the high'ft;
Ten thousand thanks our spirits bring
To God, and to his Christ.]
HYMN XXXVIII. Common Metre.
APPY the heart where graces reign,
Where love anspires the breaf:
Love is the brightest of the train,
And strengthens all the rest.
2 Knowledge-alas! 'tis all in vain,
And all in vain our fear;
Our stubborn fins will fight and reign,
If love be absent there.
3 'Tis love that makes our cheerful feet
In fwift obedience move;
The devils know and tremble too;
But fatan cannot love.
4 This is the grace that lives and fings,
When faith and hope shall ceafe;
'Tis this shall strike our joyful strings
In the sweet realms of blifs.
5 Before we quite forsake our clay,
Or leave this dark abode,
Let wings of love bear us away
To fee our smiling God.
HYMN XXXIX.
The Shortness and Misery of Life.
I UR days, alas! our mortal days,
Are short and wretched too!
" Evil and few," the Patriarch fays,
And well the Patriarch knew.
2 'Tis but, at beft, a narrow bound,
That heav'n allows to men;
And pains and fins run through the round
Of threefcore years and ten.
3 Well-if ye must be fad and few,
Run on, my days, in haste;
Moments of fin, and months of wo,
Ye cannot fly too faft.
• Let heav'nly love prepare my foul,
And call her to the skies,
Where years of long falvation roll,
And glory never dies.
HYMN XL. Common Metre. Our Comfort in the Covenant made with Chrift. UR God, how firm his promise stands, Ev'n when he hides his face ! He trufts in our Redeemer's hands His glory, and his grace.
2 Then why, my soul, these sad complaints, Since Chrift and we are one?
Thy God is faithful to his faints,
Is faithful to his Son.
Beneath his smiles my heart has liv'd,
And part of heav'n poffefs'd;
I praise his name for grace receiv'd,
And truft him for the reft.
A Sight of God mortifies us to the World.
TP to the fields, where angels lie,
And living waters gently roll, Fain would my thoughts leap out, and fly, But fin hangs heavy on my four.
2 Thy wond'rous blood, dear dying Chrift,
Can make this world of guilt remove;
And thou can'st bear me where thou fly'st,
On thy kind wings, celestial Dove !
3 O might I once mount up, and fee
The glories of th' eternal skies;
What little things these worlds would be,
How defpicable to my eyes!]
4 Had I a glance of thee, my God,
Kingdoms and men would vanish soon;
Vanish, as though I saw them not,
As a dim candle dies at noon.
5 Then they might fight, and rage, and rave,
I should perceive the noise no more
Than we can hear a fhaking leaf,
While rattling thunders round us roar
6 Great ALL IN ALL, eternal King,
Let me but view thy lovely face;
And all my pow'rs shall bow, and fing
Thine endless grandeur, and thy grace.
MY God, what endless pleasures dwell
Above, at thy right hand!
Thy courts below, how amiable,
Where all thy graces stand!
2 The swallow near thy temple lies,
And chirps a cheerful wote;
The lark mounts upward tow'rd the skies,
And tunes her warbling throat:
3 And we, when in thy presence, Lord,
Do shout with joyful tongues;
Or, fitting round our Father's board,
We crown the feast with fongs.
4 While Jesus shines with quick'ning grace,
We fing, and mount on high;
But, if a frown becloud his face,
We faint, and tire, and die.
5 [Just as we fee the lonesome dove
Bemoan her widow'd state,
Wand'ring, she flies through all the grove,
And mourns her loving mate.
6 Just so, our thoughts from thing to thing
In restless circles rove;
Just so, we droop, and hang the wing,
When Jesus hides his love.]
HYMN XLIII. Long Metre.
Christ's Sufferings and Glory.
Now for a tune of lofty praife
To great Jehovah's Son! Awake, my voice, in heav'nly lays, Tell loud the wonders he hath done.
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