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HYMN CIII. Common Metre.

C

Chrift's Commission. John iii. 16, 17.
OME, happy fouls, approach your God,
With new melodious fongs;

Come, tender to Almighty grace

The tribute of your tongues.

2 So strange, so boundless was the love

That pity'd dying men,
The Father fent his equal Son
To give them life again.

3 Thy hands, dear Jesus, were not arm'd
With a revenging rod;

- No hard commiffion to perform
The vengeance of a God.

4 But all was mercy, all was mild,
And wrath forsook the throne,
When Chrift on the kind errand came,
And brought falvation down.

5 Here, finners, you may heal your wounds,
And wipe your forrows dry :
Trust in the mighty Saviour's name,
And you shall never die.

6 See, dearest Lord, our willing fouls
Accept thine offer'd grace;
We bless the great Redeemer's love,
And give the Father praise.

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2

HYMN CIV. Short Metre.

The fame,

RAISE your triumphant fongs

an immortal tune,

Let the whole earth refound the deeds

Celestial grace has done.

Sing how eternal Love

Its chief Beloved chose,

And bid him raise our wretched race

From their abyss of woes.

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His hand no thunder bears,
No terror clothes his brow;
No bolts to drive our guilty fouls
To fiercer flames below.

'Twas mercy fill'd the throne,
And wrath stood filent by,
When Christ was sent with pardons down
To rebels doom'd to die..

Now, finners, dry your tears,
Let hopeless forrow cease;
Bow to the fceptre of his love,
And take the offer'd peace.

Lord, we obey thy call;

We lay an humble claim

To the falvation thou hast brought,
And love and praise thy name.

HYMN CV. Common Metre.

Repentance flowing from the Patience of God.

A

ND

are we wretches yet alive?

And dare we yet rebel?
'Tis boundless, 'tis amazing love,
That bears us up from hell !
2 The burden of our weighty guilt
Would fink us down to flames,
And threat'ning vengeance rolls above
To crush our feeble frames.

3 Almighty goodness cries-forbear !
And ftrait the thunder stays:
And dare we now provoke his wrath,
And weary out his grace ?

4 Lord, we have long abus'd thy love,
Too long indulg'd our fin,
Our aching hearts e'en bleed to fee
What rebels we have been.

5 No more, ye lusts, shall ye command; No more will we obey;

Stretch out, O God, thy conqu'ring hand,
And drive thy foes away.

HYMN CVI Con Metro

This

dissolve the beast of snow'; soul arise!

Frein death my

Kepentance inould like rivers How
From both my streaming eyes.

2 'Twas for my fins, my dearest Lord
Hung on the cursed tree,
And groan'd away a dying life.
For thee, my foul, for thee.

3 Oh! how I hate those lufts of mine,
That crucify'd my God;
Those fins that piere'd and nail'd his fiesh
Faft to the fatal wood.

4 Yes, my Redeemer, they shall die;
My heart has so decreed;
Nor will I spare the guilty things
That made my Saviour bleed.
5 Whilft, with a melting, broken heart,
My murder'd Lord I view,
I'll raise revenge against my fins,
And flay the murd'rers too.

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HYMN CVII. Common Metr
The everlasting Absence of God intolerable.
THAT HAT awful day will surely come,
Th' appointed hour makes hafte,
When I must stand before my Judge,
And pass the folemn teft.

2 Thou lovely Chief of all my joys,
Thou Sov'reign of my heart,
How could I bear to hear thy voice
Pronounce the found-depart!

3 The thunder of that disnal word
Would so torment my ear,
'Twould tear my foul asunder, Lord,
With most tormenting fear.

4 [What, to be banish'd from my life..
And yet forbid to die!
To linger in eternal pain,
Yet death forever fly.]

5 Oh! wretched state of deep despair,
To fee my God remove,
And fix my doleful station where
I must not taste his love!
Jesus, I throw mine arms around,
And hang upon thy breast;
Without a gracious smile from thee
My spirit cannot reft,

Oh! tell me that my worthless name
Is graven on thy hands;
Shew me fome promise, in thy book,
Where my salvation stands.

3 [Give me one kind, afsuring word,
To fink my fears again;
And cheerfully my foul shall wait
Her three-fcore years and ten.]

YMN CVIII. Common Metre.
cess to the Throne of Grace by a Mediator.
OME, let us lift our joyful eyes
Up to the courts above,

And smile to fee our Father there - Upon a throne of love.

Once 'twas a feat of dreadful wrath,
And shot devouring flame;
Our God appear'd confuming fire,
And Vengeance was his name.

3 Rich were the drops of Jesus' blood,
That calm'd his frowning face;

That sprinkled o'er the burning throne,
And turn'd the wrath to grace !

4 Now we may bow before his feet,
And venture near the Lord;
No fiery cherub guards his feat,
Nor double flaming sword.

5 The peaceful gates of heav'nly bliss
Are open'd by the Son;
High let us raise our notes of praise,
And reach th' Almighty throne.

6 To thee ten thousand thanks we bring,
Great Advocate on high;
And glory to th' eternal King,
Who lays his fury by.

HYMN CIX. Long Metre.
The Darkness of Providence.
ORD, we adore thy vast designs,

Too deep to found with mortal lines,
Too dark to view with feeble sense.

2 Now thou array'st thine awful face
In' angry frowns, without a smile :
We, through the cloud, believe thy grace,
Secure of thy compaffion still.

3 Through seas and storms of deep distress
We fail, by faith, and not by fight;
Faith guides us in the wilderness,
Through all the terrors of the night.

4 Dear Father, if thy lifted rod
Resolve to scourge us here below;
Still let us lean upon our God,
Thine arm shall bear us safely through.

HYMN CX. Short Metre.

Triumph over Death, in Hope of the Resurrection.

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A

ND must this body die?
This mortal frame decay?

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