The New Teftament in the blood of Chrift; or, the new covenant fealed.
THE promife of my Father's love
"Shall ftand for ever good:"
He faid, and gave his foul to death,
And feal'd the grace with blood. y
2 To this dear cov'nant of thy word
I fet my worthless name;
I feal th' engagement to my Lord,
And make my humble claim.
3 Thy light, and ftrength, and pard'ning grace, And glory fhall be mine:
My life and foul, my heart and flesh,
And all my pow'rs are thine.
I call that legacy my own
Which Jefus did bequeath;
'Twas purchas'd with a dying groan,
And ratify'd in death.
Sweet is the mem'ry of his name
Who blefs'd us in his will,
And to his teftament of love
Made his own life the feal.
HYMN IV. (C.M.)
Cbrift's dying love; or, our pardon bought at ▲ dear price. How condefcending and how kind
Was God's eternal Son!
Our mis❜ry reach'd his heav'nly mind,
And pity brought him down.
[When Justice, by our fins provok'd,
Drew forth its dreadful fword,
He gave his foul up to the stroke,
Without a murm'ring word.
3 He funk beneath our heavy woes,
To raife us to his throne;
There's ne'er a gift his hand bestows
But coft his heart a groan.]
4 This was compaffion like a God,
That when the Saviour knew
The price of pardon was his blood,
His pity ne'er withdrew.
Now tho' he reigns exalted high,
His love is fill as great:
Well he remembers Calvary ;
Nor let his faints forget.
6 [Here we behold his bowels roll,
As kind as when he dy'd,
And fee the forrows of his foul
Bleed thro' his wounded fide.]
7 [Here we receive repeated feals
Of Jefus dying love;
Hard is the wretch that never feels
One foft affection move.]
8 Here let our hearts begin to melt,
While we his death record,
And, with our joy for pardon'd guilt,
Mourn that we pierc'd the Lord.
Chrift the bread of life, John vi. 31, 35, 39.
ET us adore th' eternal word,
'Tis be our fouls bath fed:
Thou art our living ftream, O Lord, 1
And thou th' immortal bread.
2 [The manna came from lower skies,
But Jefus from above,
Where the fresh fprings of pleasure rife,
And rivers flow with love.
3 The Jews, the fathers, dy'd at 'last,
Who ate that heav'nly bread;
But these provisions which we taste®
Can raife us from the dead.]
4 Blefs'd be the Lord, that gives his fleth
>To nourish dying men ;
And often spreads his table fresh,
Left we should faint again.
5 Our fouls fhall draw their heav'nly breath, Whilft Jefus finds fupplies:
Nor fhall our graces fink to death,
For Jefus never diest
6 Daily our mortal flesh decays,
But Chrift our life fhall come;
His unrefifted pow'r fhall raise
Our bodies from the tomb.
HYMN VI. (L.M.)
The memorial of our abfent Lord, John xvi. 16. Luke xxii. 19. John xiv. 3.
Jesus is gone above the skies,
Where our weak fenfes reach him not;
And carnal objects court our eyes,
To thrust our Saviour from our thought.
a He knows what wand'ring hearts we have,
Apt to forget his lovely face;
And, to refresh our minds, he gave T
Thefe kind memorials of his grace.
3 The Lord of life this table fpread
With his own flesh and dying blood;
We on the rich provifion feed,
And taste the wine, and blefs the God.
4 Let finful fweets be all forgot,
And earth grow lefs in our efteem:
Chrift and his love fill ev'ry thought,
And faith and hope bé fix'd on him.
5 While he is abfent from our fight,
'Tis to prepare our fouls a place,
That we may dwell in heav'nly light,
And live for ever near his face.
6 [Our eyes look upwards to the hills
Whence our returning Lord fhall come;
We wait thy chariot's awful wheels,
To fetch our longing fpirits home.]
HYMN VII. (L.M.)
Crucifixion to the world by the cross of Chrift.
WHEN I furvey the wond'rous crofs
On which the Prince of Glory dy'd,
My richest gain I count but lofs,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
2 Forbid it, Lord, that I fhould boast,
Save in the death of Chrift my God;
All the vain things that charm me most,
I facrifice them to his blood.
3 See! from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er fuch love and forrow meet,
Or thorns compofe so rich a crown!
4 [His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o'er his body on the tree;
Then am I dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.]
5 Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love fo amazing, fo divine,
Demands my foul, my life, my all.
HYMN VIII. (C.M.)
The tree of life.
[COME, let us join a joyful tune
To our exalted Lord,
Ye faints on high around his throne,
And we around his board.
2 While once upon this lower ground,
Weary and faint ye ftood,
What dear refreshments here ye found
From this immortal-food.]
3 The tree of life, that near the throne,
In heav'n's high garden grows,
Laden with grace bends gently down
Its ever Tmiling boughs.
4 [Hóv'ring amongst the leaves there stands
The fweet celeftial Dove,
And Jefus on the branches hangs
The banner of his love.]
5 ['Tis a young heav'n of ftrange delight, While in his hade we fit;
His fruit is pleafing to the fight,
And to the tafte is fweet.
6. New life it spreads thro' dying hearts,
And cheers the drooping mind;
Vigour and joy the juice imparts
Without a fting behind.]
7 Now let the flaming weapon ftand
And guard all Eden's trees;
There's ne'er a plant in all that land
That bears fuch fruit as thefe.
8 Infinite Grace our fouls atore,
Whofe wond'rous hand has made
This living branch of fov'reign pow'r
To raife and heal the dead.
HYMN IX. (S: M.)
The spirit, the water, and the blood, 1 John v. 6.
LET all our tongues be one
To praife our God on high,
Who from his bofom fent his Son
To fetch us ftrangers nigh.
|