7 Pillars of lasting brass proclaim
The triumphs of th' Eternal Name;
While trembling nations read from far,
The honours of the God of war.]

8 Thus let our flaming zeal employ
Our loftiest thoughts, and loudest songs;
Let there be sung, with warmest joy,
HOSANNA from ten thousand tongues.
9 Yet, mighty God, our feeble frame,
Attempts in vain to reach thy name;
The strongest notes that angels raise,
Faint in the worship and the praise.
HYMN 2. C. M. Bishopsgate. [b]
The Death of a Sinner.

1

M

Y thoughts on awful subjects roll,
Damnation and the dead;

What horrours seize the guilty soul,
Upon a dying bed.

e 2 Ling'ring about these mortal shores,
She makes a long delay;

a

o Till, like a flood with rapid force,

Death sweeps the wretch away.

u 3 Then, swift and dreadful she descends
Down to the fiery coast;
-Amongst abominable fiends,

Herself a frighted ghost.

• 4 There endless crowds of sinners lie,
And darkness makes their chains:
Tortur'd with keen despair, they cry;
Yet wait for fiercer pains.

p 5 Not all their anguish, and their blood,
For their old guilt atones;

Nor the compassion of a God
Shall hearken to their groans.

6 Amazing grace, that kept my breath,
Nor bid my soul remove;

Till I had learn'd my Saviour's death,
And well insur'd his love!

HYMN 3. C. M. Isle of Wight. Canterbury. [b *]

The Death and Burial of a Saint.

HY do we mourn departing friends?

1 W WHY

Or shake at death's alarms?

'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends,

To call them to his arms.

o 2 Are we not tending upward too,
As fast as time can move?

Nor would we wish the hours more slow,
To keep us from our Love.

-3 Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?

o There the dear flesh of Jesus lay, And left a long perfume.

4 The graves of all the saints he bless'd, And soften'd ev'ry bed:

e Where should the dying members rest, But with the dying Head?

o 5 Thence he arose, ascended high, And shew'd our feet the way:

• Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly,
At the great rising day.

6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise;
Awake, ye nations under ground,

Ye saints, ascend the skies.

HYMN 4. L. M. Carthage. Pleyel's. [b]

Salvation in the Cross.

P1 HERE, at thy cross, my dying God,

I lay my soul beneath thy love!

Beneath the droppings of thy blood,
Jesus-nor shall it e'er remove.

-2 Not all that tyrants think or say,
With rage and lightning in their eyes,
Nor hell shall fright my heart away,
Should hell with all its legions rise.

3 Should worlds conspire to drive me hence,
Moveless and firm this heart should lie ;
Resolv'd, (for that's my last defence,)
If I must perish, here to die.

e 4 But speak, my Lord, and calm my fear;
Am I not safe beneath thy shade?

d Thy vengeance will not strike me here, Nor Satan dare my soul invade.

o 5 Yes, I'm secure beneath thy blood, And all my foes shall lose their aim;

o Hosanna to my dying God,

And my best honours to his name.

HYMN 5. L. M. Islington. [*]
Longing to praise Christ better.

1 [ORD, when my thoughts with wonder roll,
O'er the sharp sorrows of thy soul,
And read my Maker's broken laws,
Repair'd and honour'd by the cross:-
2 When I behold death, hell, and sin,
Vanquish'd by that dear blood of thine;
And see the Man that groan'd and dy'd,
Sit glorious by his Father's side

o 3 My passions rise and soar above;
u I'm wing'd with faith, and fir'd with love
• Fain would I reach eternal things,

And learn the notes that Gabriel sings.
e 4 But my heart fails, my tongue complains,
For want of their immortal strains;

p And, in such humble notes as these, Must fall below thy victories.

-5 Well, the kind minute must appear,

When we shall leave these bodies here,o These clogs of clay ;-and mount on high, • To join the songs above the sky.]

HYMN 6. C. M.

St. Ann's. [*]

A Morning Song.

NCE more, my soul, the rising day
Salutes thy waking eyes:

Once more, my voice, thy tribute pay,
To Him who rules the skies.

o 2 Night unto night his Name repeats,
The day renews the sound;

g Wide as the heav'n, on which he sits To turn the seasons round.

-3 'Tis he supports my mortal frame, My tongue shall speak his praise;

e My sins would rouse his wrath to flame, And yet his wrath delays.

e 4 (On a poor worm thy pow'r might tread, And I could ne'er withstand:

p Thy justice might have crush'd me dead, But mercy held thine hand.

p 5 A thousand wretched souls are fled,
Since the last setting sun;

-And yet thou length'nst out my thread,
And yet my moments run.)

e 6 Dear God, let all my hours be thine,
Whilst I enjoy the light:

o Then shall my sun in smiles decline, And bring a pleasant night.

HYMN 7. C. M. Hymn 2nd.

An Evening Song.

Wantage. [b]

• 1 D Like holy incense rise;

READ Sov'reign, let my ev'ning song,

Assist the off'rings of my tongue,
To reach the lofty skies.

-2 Through all the dangers of the day,
Thy hand was still my guard;
And still to drive my wants away,
Thy mercy stood prepar'd.

• 3 Perpetual blessings from above
Encompass me around;

e But O how few returns of love,
Hath my Creator found?

d 4 What have I done for Him, who died
To save my wretched soul?
How are my follies multiplied,

Fast as the minutes roll?

e 5 Lord, with this guilty heart of mine,
To thy dear cross I flee;
-And to thy grace my soul resign,
To be renew'd by thee.

6 (Sprinkled afresh with pard'ning blood,
I lay me down to rest,-

As in the embraces of my God,

Or on my Saviour's breast.)

HYMN 8. C. M. St. Martin's. Sunday. [*] A Hymn for Morning or Evening.

H To God's upholding hand;

OSANNA, with a cheerful sound,

Ten thousand snares attend us round,
And yet secure we stand.

e 2 That was a most amazing pow'r,
That rais'd us with a word;

—And ev'ry day, and ev'ry hour,

We lean upon the Lord.

e 3 The evening rests our weary head,
And angels guard the room;
-We wake, and we admire the bed,
That was not made our tomb.
4 The rising morning can't assure,
That we shall end the day!
e For death stands ready at the door,
To seize our lives away.

e 5 Our breath is forfeited by sin,
To God's avenging law;
-We own thy grace, immortal King,
In ev'ry gasp we draw.

o 6 God is our sun, whose daily light
Our joy and safety brings;

Our feeble flesh lies safe at night,
Beneath his shady wings.

HYMN 9. C. M. Isle of Wight. Bangor. [*]
Godly Sorrow from the Sufferings of Christ.
LAS! and did my Saviour bleed?

P1A and did my Sov'reign die?

Would he devote that sacred head,
For such a worm as I!

2 [Thy body slain, sweet Jesus thine,-
And bath'd in its own blood,
While all expos'd to wrath divine,
The glorious suff'rer stood !]

3 Was it for crimes-that I had done-
He groan'd upon the tree?—

a Amazing pity! grace unknown!

And love beyond degree!

e 4 Well might the sun in darkness hide, And shut his glories in,

When God the mighty Maker, dy'd

For man the creature's sin.

e 5 Thus might I hide my blushing face-
While his dear cross appears;
d Dissolve mine heart in thankfulness,
And melt, mine eyes, in tears.

-6 But drops of tears can ne'er repay
The debt of love I owe;