2 Sing, how he left the worlds of light, 3 [Down to this base, this finful earth, 4 [Hell, and its lions, roar'd around; 6 Lift up your eyes, ye fons of light, Round the fweet beauties of his face ! 7 Among a thoufand harps and fongs, His facred name fills all their tongues, HYMN XLIV. Long Metre.. Hell; or, the Vengeance of God. I WITH holy fear, and humble fong, The dreadful God our fouls adore; Rev'rence and awe become the tongue That speaks the terrors of his pow'r. 2 Far, in the deep, where darkness dwells, The land of horror and defpair, Juftice has built a difmal hell, And laid her fores of vengeance there. 2 [Eternal plagues, and heavy chains, ormenting racks, and fiery coals, And darts t' inflict immortal pains, 4 There fatan, the first finner, lies, Crush'd with the weight of both thy hands.] 6 Tremble, my foul, and kiss the Son- fall. HYMN XLV. Long Metre, Tiff the Eternal dwell with us? 2 Still might he fill his ftarry throne, 3 Great God! what poor returns we pay Words are but air, and tongues but clay, HYMN XLVI. Long Metre. God's Condefcenfion to Human Affairs. UP to the Lord, who reigns on high, And views the nations from afar, Let everlasting praises fly, And tell how large his bounties are, 2 [He that can shake the worlds he made, 3 God, that must stoop to view the skies, He hears us in the mournful hour, ♦ Oh! could our thankful hearts devise I To the third heav'n our Longs fhould rife, HYMN XLVII. Long Metre. Glory and Grace in the Perfon of Chrift. OW to the Lord a noble fong! NOW Awake, my foul; awake, my tongue; Hofanna to th' Eternal name ! And all his boundless love proclaim. 2 See, where it fhines in Jefus' face, And thy rich glories from afar Outshines the wonders of the fkies. I Common Metre. Love to the Creatures is dangerous. How Each pleasure hath its poison too, 2 The brightest things below the sky We should fufpect fome danger nigh, 3 Our deareft joys, and nearest friends, Phe fondnefs of a creature's love, ફ Dear Saviour, let thy beauties be And grace command my heart away I HYMN XLIX. Common Metre. Mofes dying in the Embraces of God. DEA EATH cannot make our fouls afraid, We may walk through its darkest shade, 2 I could renounce my all below, And run, if I were call'd to go, 3 Might I but climb to Pifgah's top, 4 Clafp'd in my heav'nly Father's arms, I And lofe my life among the charms HYMN L. Long Metre. Comforts under Sorrows and Pains. W Now let the Lord, my Saviour, fmile, And fhew my name upon his heart; I would forget my pains a while, And in the pleasure lofe the smart. 2 But oh! it fwells my forrows high, To fee my bleffed Jefus frown; My fpirits fink my comforts die, And all the fprings of life are down. · 3 Yet why, my foul, why thef complaints Still, while he frowns, his bowel move ;# Still, on his heart, he bears his faints,. And feels their forrows, and his love. 4 My name is printed on his breast ; His book of life contains my name : I'd rather have it there imprefs'd, Than in the bright records of fame, |