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a 'Twould tear my soul asunder, Lord,

With most tormenting fear. p 4 What to be banish'd for my life,

And yet forbid to die! To linger in eternal pain,

Yet death for ever fly!
a 5 Oh, wretched state of deep despair,

To see my God remove-
And fix my doleful station where

I must not taste his love!
6 Jesus, I throw my arms around,

And hang upon thy breast; Without a gracious smile from thee,

My spirit cannot rest.]
o ng Oh! tell me that my worthless name,

Is graven on thy hands;
Shew me some promise in thy book,

Where my salvation stands.
8 [Give me one kind, assuring word,

To sink my fears again ;
And cheerfully my soul shall wait

Her threescore years and ten.)
HYMN 108. C. M. St. Asaph's. [*]
Access to the Throne of Grace by a Mediator.
1 NOME, let us lift our joyful eyes,

U Up to the courts above; And smile to see our Father there,

Upon a throne of love.
6 2 Once 'twas a seat of dreadful wrath,

And shot devouring flame;
Our God appear'd consuming fire,

And vengeance was his name.
-3 Rich were the drops of Jesus' blood,

That calm'd his frowning face ;
That sprinkled o'er his burning throne,

And turn'd the wrath to grace. 04 Now we may bow before his feet,

And venture near the Lord ; No fiery cherub guards his seat,

Nor double flaming sword. -5 The peaceful gates of heav'nly bliss,

Are open'd by the Son;

o High let us raise our notes of praise,

And reach th' Almighty throne.
86 To thee, ten thousand thanks we bring,

Great Advocate on high;
And glory to th' eternal King,
Who lays his fury by.
HYMN 109. L. M. Islington. [b]

The darkness of Providence.
IIT ORD, we adore thy vast designs,

I Th' obscure abyss of Providence ! p Too deep to sound with mortal lines,

Too dark to view with feeble sense. e 2 Now thou array'st thine awful face

In angry frowns, without a smile : -We, through the cloud, believe thy grace, Secure of thy compassion still. 3 Through seas, and storms of deep distress, We sail by faith, and not by sight Faith guides us in the wilderness,

Through all the briers and the night. e 4 Dear Father, if thy lifted rod

Resolve to scourge us here below; -Still we must lean upon our God, o Thine arm shall bear us safely through.] HYMN 110. S. M. Aylesbury. Kibworth. [*]

Death and the Resurrection. a 1 AND must this body die ?

A This mortal frame decay? a And must these active limbs of mine

Lie mould'ring in the clay?
2 Corruption, earth, and worms,

Shall but refine this flesh;
o 'Till my triumphant spirit comes,

To put it on afresh.
- 3 God my Redeemer lives,

And often from the skies,
Looks down and watches all my dust

'Till he shall bid it rise.
O 4 Array'd in glorious grace,

Shall these vile bodies shine ; And ev'ry shape, and ev'ry face,

Look heav'nly and divine.

- 5 These lively hopes we owe

To Jesus' dying love ;
We would adore his grace below,

And sing his pow'r above.
6 Dear Lord, accept the praise

of these our humble songs ;
o 'Till tunes of nobler sound we raise ;
With our immortal tongues.

HYMN 111. C. M. Mitcham. [*] God's Dominion, and our Deliverance. 1117ION, rejoice, and judah sing ;

4 The Lord assumes his throne : Come, let us own the heav'nly King,

And make his glories known. 2 The great, the wicked, and the proud,

From their high seats are hurl'd; Jehovah rides upon a cloud,

And thunders thro' the world. 3 He reigns upon th' eternal hills,

Distributes mortal crowns; Empires are fix'd beneath his smiles,

And totter at his frowns.
4 Navies, that rule the ocean wide,

Are vanquish'd by his breath:
And legions, arm'd with pow'r and pride,

Descend to wat'ry death.
5 Let tyrants make no more pretence

To vex our happy land; Jehovah's name is our defence ;

Our buckler is his hand.
6 Still may the King of G ace descend,

To rule us by his word ;
And all the honours we can give
Be offer'd to the Lord.]

HYMN 112. L. M. Oporto. [*]

Angels ministering to Christ and Saints. 1 N REAT God! to what a glorious height,

LT Hast thou advanc'd the Lord thy Son! Angels, in all their robes of light,

Are made the servants of his throne. e 2 Before his feet thine armies wait, o And swift as flames of fire they move,

-To manage his affairs of state,
In works of vengeance-and of love.
3 [His orders run thro' all the hosts,
Legions descend at his command ;
To shield and guard our native coasts,
When foreign rage invades our land.)
0 4 Now they are sent to guide our feet,
Up to the gates of thine abode ;
Through all the dangers that we meet,
In travelling the heav'nly road.
-5 Lord, when I leave this mortal ground,

And thou shalt bid me rise and come-
Send a beloved angel down,
Safe to conduct my spirit home.
HYMN 113. C. M. Mear. [*]

The same.
1 M HE majesty of Solomon,

1 How glorious to behold ! The servants waiting round his throne,

The iv'ry and the gold.
2 But, mighty God, thy palace shines

With far superior beams;
Thine angel-guards are swift as winds,

Thy ministers are flames.
3 (Soon as thine only Son had made

His entrance on the earth,
A shining army downward fled,

To celebrate his birth. 4 And when oppress'd with pains and fears,

On the cold ground he lies, Behold a heav'nly form appears,

T'allay his agonies.
5 Now to the hands of Christ our King,

Are all their legions giv'n;
They wait upon his saints, and bring

His chosen heirs to heav'n. 6 Pleasure and praise run through their host,

To see a sinner turn;
That Satan has a captive lost,

And Christ a subject born.
ng But there's an hour of brighter joy,

When he his angel sends,

Obstinate rebels to destroy,

And gather in his friends. 8 Oh! could I say without a doubt,

There shall my soul be found, Then let the great archangel shout,

And the last trumpet sound.) HYMN 114. C. M, Christmas. Sunday. [*}

Christ's Death, Victory, and Dominion.' 1 T SING my Saviour's wondrous death;

1 He conquer'd when he fell; 'Tis Finish'd ! said his dying breath,

And shook the gates of hell.
2 'Tis Finish'd! our Emmanuel cries,

The dreadful work is done!
Hence shall his sov'reign throne arise,

His kingdom is begun.,
3 His cross a sure foundation laid,

For glory and renown;
When through the regions of the dead

He pass'd to reach the crown. 4 Exalted at his Father's side,

Sits our victorious Lord ;
To heav'n and hell his hands divide

The vengeance or reward.
5 The saints from his propitious eye,

Await their sev'ral crowns;
And all the sons of darkness fly
The terrour of his frowns.
HYMN 115. C. M. Bedford. [*]

God the Avenger of his Saints.
1 UTIGH as the heav'ns above the ground,

II Reigns the Creator God; Wide as the whole creation's bound,

Extends his awful rod. 2 Let princes of exalted state

To him ascribe their crown ; Render their homage at his feet,

And cast their glories down. e 3 Know that his kingdom is supreme,

Your lofty thoughts are vain ; He calls you gods, that awful name, ! But ye must die like men.

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