He bids the fhining orbs roll on, And round he turns the hafty years. 4 Thus fhall this moving engine laft, Till all his faints are gather'd in: Then for the trumpet's dreadful blast, To fhake it all to duft again.
5 Yet, when the found fhall tear the skies,
And lightning burn the globe below,
Saints, you may lift your joyful eyes,
There's a new heaven and earth for you.
[*]
HYMN XIV. Short Metre.
The Lord's day; or, delight in ordinances
WELCOME, fweet day of reft,
That faw the Lord arife;
Welcome to this reviving breast,
And thefe rejoicing eyes!
2 The King himfelf comes near,
And feafts his faints to-day;
Here we may fit, and fee him here,
And love, and praife, and pray.
3 One day amidit the place
Where my dear God hath been, Is fweeter than ten thousand days Of pleasurable fin.
My willing foul would stay In fuch a frame as this; And fit and fing herself away To everlasting blifs.
HYMN XV. Long Metre. [*]
The enjoyment of Chrift; or, delight in worship. AR from my thoughts, vain world, be gone;
Fain would my eyes my Saviour fee-
I wait a vifit, Lord, from thee!
e My heart grows warm with holy fire,
And kindles with a pure defire:
Come, my dear Jefus, from above,
And feed my foul with heavenly love.
3 [The trees of life immortal ftand
In blooming rows at thy right hand;
And, in fweet murmurs by their fide,
Rivers of blifs perpetual glide.
4 Hafte then, but with a fmiling face,
And fpread the table of thy grace :
Bring down a tafle of truth divine,
And cheer my heart with facred wine.]
5 Blefs'd Jefus, what delicious fare!
How fweet thy entertainments are!
Never did angels taffe above
Redeeming grace, and dying love.
6 Hail, great Immanuel, all divine!
In thee thy Father's glories fhine:
Thou brighteft, fweeteft, faireft One,
That eyes have feen, or angels known!
HYMN XVI. Long Metre. [*] Part the fecond.. 1 ORD, what a heaven of faving grace
And lights our paffions to a flame!
Lord, how we love thy charming name.
2 When I can fay, my God is mine,
When I can feel thy glories fhine,
I tread the world beneath my feet,
And all that earth calls good or great.
3 While fuch a scene of facred joys,
Our rapur'd eyes and fouls employs,
Here we could fit, and gaze away
A long, an everlasting day.
4 Well, we fhall quickly pafs the night,
To the fair coafts of perfect light;
Then fhall our joyful fenfes rove
O'er the dear object of our love.
5 [There fhall we drink full draughts of bliss,
And pluck new life from heavenly trees;
Yet now and then, dear Lord, beftow
A drop of heaven on worms below.
6 Send comforts down from thy right hand,
While we pass through this barren land;
And in thy temple let us fee
A glimpse of love, a glimpfe of thee.]
HYMN XVII. Common Metre. [*]
God's eternity.
RISE, rife, my foul, and leave the ground,
abroad;
And roufe up every tuneful found
To praise th' Eternal God.
2 Long ere the lofty fkies were spread,
Jehovah fill'd his throne;
Or Adam form'd, or angels made,
The Maker liv'd alone.
3 His boundlefs years can ne'er decrease,
But ftill maintain their prime;
Eternity's his dwelling place,
And ever is his time.
4 While like a tide our minutes flow,
The prefent and the past,
He fills his own immortal now,
And fees our ages wafte.
5 The fea and fky must perifh too, And vaft deftruction come;
The creatures-look! how old they grow,
And wait their fiery doom.
6 Well, let the fea fhrink all away,
And flames melt down the fkies,
My God fhall live an endless day,
When old creation dies.
HYMN XVIII. Long Metre. [*]
The miniftry of angels.
HIGH
IGH on a hill of dazzling light,
The King of Glory fpreads his feat,
And troops of angels, ftretch'd for flight,
Stand waiting round his awful feet.
2 "Go," faith the Lord, " my Gabriel, go,
"Salute the virgin's fruitful womb!
"Make hafte, ye cherubs, down below,
Sing and proclaim-the Saviour's come."
8 Here a bright fquadron leaves the fkies,
And thick around Elifha ftands;
Anon a heavenly foldier flies,
And breaks the chains from Peter's hands.
4 Thy winged troops, O God of Hofts,.
Wait on thy wandering church below;
Here we are failing to thy coafts,
Let angels be our convoy too.
Are they not all thy fervants, Lord,
At thy command they go and come;
With cheerful hafte obey thy word,
And guard thy children to their home.
HYMN XIX.
Common Metre.
[*]
L
Our bodies frail, and God our preserver.
ET others boaft how strong they be,
Nor death nor danger fear;
But we'll confefs, O Lord, to thee,
What feeble things we are.
2 Fresh as the grafs our bodies fland,
And flourish bright and gay;
A blafting wind fweeps o'er the land,
And fades the grass away.
3 Our life contains a thousand springs,
And dies, if one be gone;
Strange! that a harp of thousand ftrings
Should keep in tune fo long.
4 But 'tis our God fupports our frame,
The God who built us first;
Salvation to th' Almighty Name
That rear'd us from the duft.
5 [He fpake-and flraight our hearts and brains, In all their motions, rofe;
"Let blood," faid he, "flow round the veins," And round the veins it flows.
6 While we have breath, or use our tongues, Our Maker we'll adore;
His Spirit moves our heaving lungs,
Or they would breathe no more.]
HYMN XX. Common Metre. Backflidings and returns; or, the inconftancy of
[6]
our love.
HY is my heart fo far from thee,
My God, my chief delight?
Why are my thoughts no more by day
With thee, no more by night?
2 [Why should my foolish paffions rove?
Where can fuch fweetnefs be,
As I have tafted in thy love,
As I have found in thee?]
3 When my forgetful foul renews
The favour of thy grace,
My heart prefumes I cannot lofe
The relifh all my days.
4 But ere one fleeting hour is past,
The flattering world employs
Some fenfual bait to feize my tafte,
And to pollute my joys.
5 [Trifles of nature, or of art,
With fair deceitful charms,
Intrude into my thoughtless heart,
And thruft me from thy arms.]
6 Then I repent, and vex my foul
That I fhould leave thee fo;
Where will thofe wild affections rol
That let a Saviour go?
7 [Sin's promis'd joys are turn'd to pain, And I am drown'd in grief,
But my dear Lord returns again;
He flies to my relief!
8 Seizing my foul with fweet furprife,
He draws with loving bands ;
Divine compaffion in his eyes,
And pardon in his hands.]
9 [Wretch that I am, to wander thus,
In chafe of falfe delight!
Let me be faften'd to thy cross,
Rather than lofe thy fight.]
10 [Make hafte, my days, to reach the goal,
And bring my heart to reft
On the dear centre of my foul,
My God, my Saviour's breaft!]
[*]
HYMN XXI. Long Metre. A jong of praise to God the Redeemer. 1 ET the old heathens tune their fong Of great Diana, and of Jove; But the fweet theme that moves my tongue Is my Redeemer and his love.
2 Behold! a God defcends and dies,
To fave my foul from gaping hell!
How the black gulf, where Satan lies,
Yawn'd to receive me when I fell !
3 How juftice frown'd, and vengeance flood,
To drive me down to endless pain!
But the great Son propos'd his blood,
And heavenly wrath grew mild again.
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