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7 [Come, the dear day, the glorious hour,

That brings our souls to rest !
Then we shall need these types no more,

But dwell at th' heav'nly feast.] HYMN XVI. Common Metre.

The Agonies of Christ. N OW let our pains be all forgot, IV Our hearts no more repine ; Our fuff'rings are not worth a thought,

Lord, when compar'd with thine. 2 In lively figures here we fee

The bleeding Prince of love ; Each of us hopes he dy'd for me,

And then our griefs remove. 3 [Our humble faith here takes her rise,

While fitting round his board ;
And back to Calvary she fies,

To view her groaning Lord. 4 His soul, what agonies it felt

When his own God withdrew,
And the large load of all our guilt

Lay heavy on him too! .
But the divinity within

Supported him to bear ;
Dying, he conquer'd hell and fin,

And made his triumph there.] 6 Grace, wisdom, justice, join'd and wrought

The wonders of that day : No mortal tongue, nor mortal thought,

Can equal thanks repay.

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