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Complete thy.work, and crown thy grace,
That I may faithful prove;
Which only whispers love.
This teaching from my Lord, And learn obedience to thy voice,
Thy soft reviving word!
555. Poor, weak, and worthless, tho' I am,
I have a rich almighty Friend; Jesus, the Saviour, is his name,
Who freely loves, and without end. He ransom'd me from hell with blood,
And, by his pow'r, my foes controllid; He found me wand'ring far from God,
And brought me to his chosen fold. He cheers my heart, my wants supplies,
And says, that I shall shortly be Enthron'd with him above the skies,
O! what a friend is Christ to me!
Christ is the Pearl of greatest price,
The only source of joy ;
He is tae sov'reign Lord of lords ;
The sov'reign King of kings; The glorious Sun of Righteousness,
With healing in his wings. Christ is my Father and my Friend,
My Brother and my Love; My Head, my Hope, my Counsellor,
My Advocate above; Christ is to me the heav'n of heav'n,
Christ, ( what shall I call : Christ is the first, Christ is the last,
Christ is my all in all.
ADDITIONAL HYMNS, &c. TO MOST OF WHICH SELECT PIECES OF SACRED MUSIC ARE PECULIARLY
: 557. Music, at first by heav'n design’d, To calm the tumult of the mind, Relieves us by its sacred aid, As Saul was well when David play'd : But if it take the tempter's part, And softly steal from God the heart, It chases the good Spirit away, And courts the evil one to stay. May thy good Spirit, Lord, inspire Our souls with pure seraphic fire; In unison with them we'd be, And all our hearts devote to thee: While they their harps resound above, May all our souls be tun'd with leve; While on Immanuel they gaze, Take thou, dear Saviour, all our praise.
558. LORD, when together here we meet,
And taste thy heay’nly grace,
We're loth to ltave the place.
Upon the sacred road,
And keep us close to God.
While earth is our abode,
559. HAUL, Jesus, hail, our great High Priest, Enter'd into thy glorious rest, That hols, happy place above! Thou hast the conquest more than gain'd, The everlasting bliss obtain'd, For all who trust thy dying love. The blood of goats and bullocks slain, Could never purge our guilty stain, Could never for our sins atone; But thou thine own most precious blood Hast spilt to quench the wrath of God, Hast sav'd us by thy blood alone.
Shed on the altar of thy cross,
That we the promise might receive,
Not without blood thou pray'st above: