Awake my wrath, and smile the Man,
My Fellow, saith the Lord.

-2 Vengeance receiv'd the dread command,
And armed down she flies;

e Jesus submits t' his Father's hand,
a And bows his head-and dies,
o 3 But, oh! the wisdom and the grace,
That join with vengeance now!

e He dies to save our guilty race;
And yet he rises too.

-4 A person so Divine was he,

Who yielded to be slain,

That he could give his soul away,
And take his life again.

· ● 5 Live, glorious Lord, and reign on high,
Let ev'ry nation sing;

g And angels sound, with endless joy, The Saviour and the King.]

b

HYMN 84. S. M.

Watchman. [*]

The Passion and Exaltation of Christ.
OME, all harmonious tongues,
Your noblest music bring;

'Tis Christ, the everlasting God,
And Christ, the man, we sing.
2 Tell how he took our flesh,
To take away our guilt!

Sing the dear drops of sacred blood,
That hellish monsters spilt.

3 [Alas the cruel spear
Went deep into his side,
And the rich flood of purple gore
The murd'rous weapons dy'd.
4 The waves of swelling grief
Did o'er his bosom roll;
And mountains of Almighty wrath
Lay heavy on his soul.]
5 Down to the shades of death,
He bow'd his awful head:
o Yet he arose to live, and reign,
When death itself is dead.

a

6 No more the bloody spear,

The cross and nails no more; d For hell itself shakes at his name, And all the heav'ns adore.

7 There the Redeemer sits,

High on the Father's throne;

e The Father lays his vengeance by, And smiles upon his Son.

g

8 There his full glories shine,
With uncreated rays;

And bless his saints and angels eyes
To everlasting days.

HYMN 85. C. M. Canterbury. St. Ann's. [*]
Sufficiency of Pardon.

e 1

WHY

THY does your face, ye humble souls,
Those mournful colours wear?

What doubts are these that waste your faith.
And nourish your despair?

-2 What tho' your num'rous sins exceed
The stars that fill the skies-
And aiming at th' eternal throne,
Like pointed mountains rise?

3 What tho' your mighty guilt beyond
The wide creation swell;
And has its curst foundations laid,
Low as the deeps of hell?—

e 4 See here an endless ocean flows,
Of never-failing grace;

Behold a dying Saviour's veins

The sacred flood increase.

o 5 It rises high, and drowns the hills,
Has neither shore nor bound;
-Now if we search to find our sins,
Our sins can ne'er be found.

• 6 Awake, our hearts, adore the grace,
That buries all our faults;

And pard'ning blood, that swells above
Our follies and our thoughts.

p 1

HYMN 86. C. M.

China. [b]

Freedom from Sin and Misery, in Heaven.
UR sins, alas! how strong they be!
And like a violent sea,

They break our duty, Lord, to thee,

And hurry us away.

d 2 The waves of trouble, how they rise! How loud the tempests roar!

e But death shall land our weary souls, Safe on the heav'nly shore.

3 There, to fulfil his sweet commands,
Our speedy feet shall move :

No sin shall clog our winged zeal,
Or cool our burning love.

• 4 There shall we sit, and sing and tell
The wonders of his grace;
Till heav'nly raptures fire our hearts,
And smile in ev'ry face.

-5 Forever his dear sacred name
Shall dwell upon our tongue;

o And Jesus and salvation be The close of ev'ry song.]

HYMN 87. C. M. Arundel. Bedford. [*]

e 1

The Divine Glories above our Reason.

TOW wondrous great, how glorious bright,
Must our Creator be-

HOW

Who dwells amidst the dazzling light

Of vast infinity.

-2 Our soaring spirits upward rise, Tow'rd the celestial throne:

e Fain would we see the blessed Three, And the almighty One.

-3 Our reason stretches all its wings, And climbs above the skies;

e But still how far beneath thy feet, Our grov'ling reason lies!

a 4 Lord, here we bend our humble souls,
And awfully adore:

For the weak pinions of our mind,
Can stretch a thought no more.

g 5 Thy glories infinitely rise

Above our lab'ring tongue; In vain the highest seraph tries To form an equal song.

e 6 In humble notes our faith adores The great myterious King;

• While angels strain their nobler pow'rs, And sweep th' immortal string.

HYMN 88. C. M. Doxology. Devizes. [*]

1

Salvation.

ALVATION! O the joyful sound!
ie lezense to our core :

A sovereign balm for ev'ry wound,

A cordial for our fears. e 2 Bury'd in sorrow and in sin, At hell's dark door we lay;— o But we arise, by grace Divine, To see a heav'nly day.

s 3 Salvation! let the echo fly The spacious earth around; g While all the armies of the sky Conspire to raise the sound.

1

HYMN 89. C. M.

H

Mear. [*]

Christ's Victory over Satan.
[OSANNA to our conqu'ring King!
The prince of darkness flies:

His troops rush headlong down to hell,
Like lightning from the skies.

e 2 There, bound in chains, the lions roar,
And fright the rescu'd sheep;

-But heavy bars confine their pow'r
And malice to the deep.

o 3 Hosanna to our conqu'ring King;
All hail, incarnate Love!

Ten thousand songs and glories wait,
To crown thy head above.

s 4 Thy vict'ries and thy deathless fame,
Through the wide world shall run;

And everlasting ages sing

e 1

The triumphs thou hast won.

HYMN 90. C. M. Colchester. [*]

Pardon and Sanctification in Christ.
TOW sad our state by nature is!

Hour sin, how deep it stains!

e And Satan binds our captive minds, Fast in his slavish chains.

o 2 But there's a voice of sov'reign grace, Sounds from the sacred word;

d "Ho! ye despairing sinners, come, "And trust upon the Lord."

o 3 My soul obeys th' almighty call, And runs to this relief;

-I would believe thy promise, Lord; e Oh! help my unbelief.

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

Here let me wash my spotted soul
From crimes of deepest dye.

-5 Stretch out thine arm, victorious King,
My reigning sins subdue;

Drive the old Dragon from his seat,
With all his hellish crew.] .

p 6 A guilty, weak, and helpless worm,
On thy kind arms I fall:

Be thou my strength and righteousness,
My Jesus, and my All.

HYMN 91. C. M. Hymn 2d. St. Ann's. [*]
The Glory of Christ in Heaven.

1 H, 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 sceptres down;
Dominions, thrones, and pow'rs rejoice,
To see him wear the crown.

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

e 5 Those soft, those blessed feet of his,
That once rude iron tore-

• High on a throne of light they stand, And all the saints adore.

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

• See-what immortal glories shine, And circle it around!

- This is the Man, th' exalted Man,
Whom we unseen, adore;

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