But death comes haft'ning on to you,
To mow your glory down.

4 Yes-you must bow your ftately head;
Away your fpirit flies;

And no kind angel near your bed,
To bear it to the skies.

5 Go now, and boast of all your stores,
And tell how bright they fhine;
Your heaps of glitt'ring duft are yours,
And my Redeemer's mine!

I

HYMN LVII. Long Metre.
The Pleafures of a good Confcience.

ORD, how secure and bleft are they

'L Who' feel the joys of pardon'd fin!

Should ftorms of wrath fhake earth and fea,
Their minds have heav'n and peace within.
2 The day glides fweetly o'er their heads,
Made up of innocence and love;
And foft and filent as the fhades,
Their nightly minutes gently move.

3 [Quick as their thoughts their joys come on,
But fly not half so swift away;
Their fouls are ever bright as noon,
And calm as fummer ev'nings be.

4 How oft they look to th' heav'nly hills,
Where groves of living pleasures grow
!
And longing hopes, and cheerful smiles,
Sit undisturb'd upon their brow.]
They scorn to feck our golden toys;
But spend the day and fhare the night
In numb'ring o'er the richer joys,
That heav'n prepares for their delight.

6 While wretched we, like worms and moles,
Lie grov'ling in the duft below;
Almighty grace, renew our souls,
And we'll afpire to glory too.

HYMN LVIII. Common Metre. The Shortness of Life, and the Goodness of God. TIME! What an empty vapour 'tis ! And days, how fwift they are!

I

Swift as an Indian arrow flies,

Or like a shooting star.

2 [The prefent moments juft appear,
Then flide away in haste;
That we can never fay-they're here ;
But only fay-they're paft.]

3 [Our life is ever on the wing,
And death is ever nigh;

The moment when our lives begin,
We all begin to die.]

4 Yet, mighty God! our fleeting days
Thy lafting favours fhare;

Yet, with the bounties of thy grace,
Thou load'ft the rolling year.

5 'Tis fov'reign mercy finds us food,
And we are cloth'd with love;
While grace stands pointing out the road,
That leads our fouls above.

6 His goodness runs an endless round;
All glory to the Lord!

His mercy never knows a bound;
And be his name ador'd!

7 Thus we begin the lafting fong;
And when we clofe our eyes,
Let the next age thy praise prolong,
Till time and nature dies.

I

HYMN LIX. Common Metre.

GLOR

Paradife on Earth.

LORY to God, who walks the sky,
And fends his bleffings through;

Who tells his faints of joys on high,
And gives a taste below.

2 [Glory to God, who ftoops his throne, That duft and worms may fee't,. And brings a glimpse of glory down

Around his facred feet.

3 When Chrift, with all his graces Sheds his kind beams abroad,

crown'd,

'Tis a young heav'n on earthly ground, And glory in the bud,

A blooming paradife of joy

In this wild defart springs;
And ev'ry fenfe I strait employ
On fweet celeftial things.

5 White lilies all around appear,
And each his glory shows!
The rofe of Sharon bloffoms here
The faireft flow'r that blows.

6 Cheerful I feaft on heav'nly fruit,
And drink the pleasures down;
Pleasures that flow hard by the foot
Of the eternal throne !]

7 But, ah! how foon my joys decay;
How foon my fins arife,

And fnatch th' heav'nly scene away
From thefe lamenting eyes!

8 When shall the time, dear Jesus, when
The fhining day appear,
That I fhall leave thefe clouds of fin,
And guilt and darkness here?

9 Up to the fields, above the skies,
My hafty feet would go ;
There everlasting flow'rs arife,
And joys unwith’ring grow.

HYMN LX. Long Metre.

The Truth of God the Promifer; or, the Promises are our St

I

PRA

curity.

RAISE, everlafting praife, be paid
To Him who earth's foundation laid:

Praise to the God whofe ftrong decrees
Sway the creation as he please.

2 Praise to the goodness of the Lord,
Who rules his people by his word;
And there, as ftrong as his decrees,
He sets his kindest promises.

3 [Firm are the words his prophets give;
Sweet words, on which his children live;
Each of them is the voice of God,

Who fpake, and spread the skies abroad.
4 Each of them pow'rful as that found
That bid the new-made world go round;
And stronger than the solid poles,
On which the wheel of nature rolls.]

5 Whence then should doubts and fears arife? Why trickling forrows drown our eyes? Slowly, alas! our mind receives The comforts that our Maker gives. 6 Oh, for a strong, a lafting faith, To credit what th' Almighty faith! T'embrace the meffage of his fon, And call the joys of heav'n our own. 7 Then, fhould the earth's old pillars shake, And all the wheels of nature break; Qur steady fouls would fear no more Than folid rocks, when billows roar. 8 Our everlasting hopes arife

I

Above the ruinable skies,

Where the eternal Builder reigns,
And his own court his pow'r fustains.

HYMN LXI. Common Metre.
A Thought of Death and Glory.

MY

Y foul, come, meditate the day,
And think how near it ftands,
When thou must quit this house of clay,
And fly to unknown lands.

2 [And you,

mine eyes, look down and view

The hollow gaping tomb :

This gloomy prifon waits for you,
Whene'er the fummons come.]

3 Oh! could we die with thofe that die,
And place us in their stead;
Then would our fpirits learn to fly,
And converfe with the dead.

4 Then fhould we see the faints above
In their own glorious forms,
And wonder why our fouls fhould love
To dwell with mortal worms.

5 [How we should scorn these clothes of flesh,
These fetters and this load,

And long for ev'ning, to undrefs,
That we may reft with God.]

6 We should almost forfake our clay
Before the fummons come,

And pray and with our fouls away

To their eternal home.

HYMN LXII. Common Metre.

God the Thunderer; or, the last Judgment and Hell.*

I

ING to the Lord, ye heav'nly hofts,

SING

And thou, O earth, adore:

Let death and hell, through all their coafts,
Stand trembling at his pow'r.

2 His founding charlot shakes the sky,
He makes the clouds his throne;
There all his stores of lightning lie
Fill vengeance darts them down.

His noftrils breathe out fiery ftreams-
And from his awful tongue

A fov'reign voice divides the flames,
And thunder roars along!

* Made in a great form of thunder, Auguft 20th, 1697.