4 [To the dear fountain of thy blood,
Incarnate God, I fly;

Here let me wash my spotted foul
From crimes of deepest die.

5 Stretch out thine arm, victorious King,
My reigning sins subdue;
Drive the old dragon from his feat,
With all his hellish crew.]

6 A guilty, weak, and helpless worm,
On thy kind arms I fall;
Be thou my strength, and righteousness,
My Jefus, and my All !

HYMN XCI. Common Metre.
The Glory of Christ in Heaven.

OH, the delights, the heav'nly joys,

The glories of the place,
Where Jesus sheds the brightest beams
Of his o'erflowing grace.

2 Sweet majesty and awful love
Sit smiling on his brow;
And all the glorious ranks above
At humble distance bow.
3 [Princes to his imperial name

Bend their bright fceptres down;
Dominions, thrones, and pow'rs rejoice
To see him wear the crown.

4 Archangels found his lofty praise
Through ev'ry heav'nly street;
And lay their highest honours down
Submiffive at his feet.]

5 Those soft, those blessed feet of his,
That once rude iron tore,
High on a throne of light they stand,
And all the faints adore.

6 His head, the dear majestic head,
That cruel thorns did wound,

See what immortal glories shine
And circle it around!

7 This is the Man, th' exalted Man,
Whom we, unseen, adore !

But, when our eyes behold his face,
Our hearts shall love him more.

1

8 [Lord! how our fouls are all on fire

To see thy blest abode ;
Our tongues rejoice in tunes of praise
To our incarnate God!]

9 And while our faith enjoys the fight,
We long to leave our clay;
And wish thy fiery chariots, Lord,

To fetch our fouls away.

HYMN XCII.

Common Metre.

The Church Javed, and ber Enemies disappointed; or, De

I

liverance from Treason.

SHOUT to the Lord, and let our joys

Through the whole nation run:

Ye western skies, refound the noise
Beyond the rifing fun.

Thee, mighty God, our fouls admire;
Thee our glad voices fing;
And join with the celestial choir,
To praise th' eternal King.

3 Thy pow'r the whole creation rules,
And, on the starry skies,
Sits smiling at the weak designs
Thine envious foes devise.

4 Thy scorn derides their feeble rage,
And, with an awful frown,
Flings vast confufion on their plots,
And shakes their Babel down.

5 [Their secret fires in caverns lay,
And we the sacrifice;

But gloomy caverns strove in vain
To 'scape all-fearching eyes.

6 Their dark designs were all reveal'd;
Their treasons all betray'd:
Praise to the Lord, who broke the snare
Their cursed hands had laid.]

7 In vain the bufy fons of hell
Still new rebellions try;
Their fouls shall pine with envious rage,
And vex away, and die.

8 Almighty grace defends our land
From their malicious pow'r :

I

2

Then let us with united songs

Almighty grace adore.

HYMN XCIII.

Short Metre.

God all, and in all. Psalm lxxiii. 25.

M

Y GOD, my life, my love,
To thee, to thee I call;

I cannot live if thou remove,

For thou art All in All.

[Thy shining grace can cheer
This dungeon, where I dwell :
'Tis paradife, when thou art here;

If thou depart, 'tis hell.]

3 [The smilings of thy face, How amiable they are!

4

5

'Tis heav'n to rest in thine embrace,
And no where else but there.]

[To thee, and thee alone,

The angels owe their blifs ;
They fit around thy gracious throne,
And dwell where Jesus is.]

[Not all the harps above
Can make a heav'nly place,
If God his refidence remove,
Or but conceal his face.]

6 Nor earth, nor all the sky,
Can one delight afford;
No, not a drop of real joy,
Without thy prefence, Lord.

7

Thou art the Sea of Love,
Where all my pleasures roll;
The Circle where my passions move,
And Centre of my foul.

8 [To thee my spirits fly,
With infinite defire;

I

And yet how far from thee I lie !
Dear Jefus, raise me higher.]

HYMN XCIV. Common Metre. God my only Happiness, Pfalm 1xxiii. 25. MY GOD, my portion, and my love,

My everlasting All !

I've none but thee in heav'n above,
Or on this earthly ball.

2 [What empty things are all the skies,
And this inferior clod!

There's nothing here deserves my joys;
There's nothing like my God.]

3 [In vain the bright, the burning fun,
Scatters his feeble light;
'Tis thy sweet beams create my noon;
If thou withdraw, 'tis night.

4 And whilst upon my restless bed
Amongst the shades I roll,
If my Redeemer shews his head,
'Tis morning with my foul.]

5 To thee I owe my wealth, and friends,
And health, and fafe abode ;
Thanks to thy name for meaner things,
But they are not my God.

6 How vain a toy is glitt'ring wealth,
If once compar'd to Thee!

Or what's my fafety, or my health,
Or all my friends, to me?

7 Were I possessor of the earth,
And call'd the stars my own;
Without thy graces, and thy felf,
I were a wretch undone.

8 Let others stretch their arms, like seas,
And grafp in all the shore;

Grant me the vifits of thy face,
And I defire no more.

HYMN XCV. Common Metre.

Look on him whom they pierced, and mourn.

I INFINITE grief!

amazing wo!

Behold my bleeding Lord!

Hell and the Jews conspir'd his death,
And us'd the Roman fword.

2 Oh! the sharp pangs of smarting pain
My dear Redeemer bore,
When knotty whips, and jagged thorns,
His facred body tore!

3 But knotty whips, and jagged thorns,
In vain do I accuse;

In vain I blame the Roman bands,
And the more spiteful Jews:

4 'Twere you, my fins, my cruel fins,
His chief tormentors were ;
Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear.

5 'Twere you that pull'd the vengeance down Upon his guiltless head :

Break, break, my heart-oh, burst, mine eyes,
And let my forrows bleed.

6 Strike, mighty grace, my flinty foul,
Till melting waters flow,
And deep repentance drown mine eyes
In undiffembled wo!