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Bright angels strike your loudest strings,

Your sweetest voices raise;
Let heav'n and all created things,

Sound our Immanuel's praise.

84., The Ascension of Christ. Hail the day that sees him rise ! Ravish'd from our wishful eyes! Christ, awhile to mortals giv'n'! Reascends his native heav'n. There the pompous triumph waits; • Lift your heads, eternal gates! • Wide unfold the radiant scene, • Take the King of Glory in!' Him, tho' highest heav'n receives, Still he loves the earth he leaves ; Tho' returning to his throne, Still he calls mankind his own; Still for us he intercedes, Prevalent his death he pleads, Next himself prepares our place, To rehearse his sov'reign grace. Ever upward may we move, Wafted on the wings of love, Looking when our Lord shall come, Longing, gasping after home! There we shall with thee remain, Partners of thine endless reign, There thy face unclouded see, Find our hear'n of heav'ns in thee.

85. Resurrection of Christ. JESUS, who dy'd a world to save, Revives and rises from the grave

By his almighty pow'r:
From sin and death and hell set free,
He captive leads captivity,

And lives to die no more.
Children of God, look up


see Your Saviour eloth'd with majesty,

Triumphant o'er the tomb:
Give o'er your griefs, cast off your fears,
In heav'n your mansions he prepares,
And soon will take


His church is still his joy and crown,
He looks with love and pity down

On her he did redeem :
He tastes her joys, he feels her woes,

prays that she may spoil her foes,
And ever reign with him.
O may we all from sin awake,
May all in heav'n our places tako

Near our exalted Head !
May all our souls to heav'n aspire,
In thought, in will, in strong desire,

To carnal pleasures dead !

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86. Easter Days Death has no sting to pierce the soul,

That now by faith to Jesus flies; He can the pow'rs of hell control,

And bid the sleeping dead arise.

His own almighty arm can shake

Those gloomy vaults and mansions down, At which the sons of Adam quake,

And raise their tenants to a crown.

Then fear not death, but fear the Lord,

And look to him for victory;
For those who tremble at his word,

Shall his immortal glory see.

His promise is for ever sure,

And he hath said that death shall die: His word for ever must endure;

His word, that fills eternity.

Rejoice, ye saints that fear his name,

Rejoice in his eternal might!
For he has put your foes to shame,

To shame, and everlasting flight.

Rejoice in him, for he will come,

In all the beauty of his love, And take his church, from conflict, home

To everlasting joys above,

87. The Ascension of Christ. Our Lord is ris'n from the dead,

Our Jesus is gone up on bigh; The pow'rs of hell are captive led,

Dragg'd to the portals of the sky. There his triumphal chariot waits,

And angels chant the solemn lay: • Lift up your heads, ye heav'nly gates,

• Ye everlasting doors, give way! • Loose all your bars of massy light,

" And wide unfold th' ethereal scenę; • He claims these mansions, as his right,

Receive the King of Glory, in ! Who is the King of Glory, who? · The Lord, who all his foes o'ercame, The world, sin, death, and hell, o'erthrew,

• And Jesus is the conqu’ror's name.? Lo! his triumphal chariot waits,

And angels chant the solemn lay: • Lift up your heads, ye heav'nly gates,

• Ye everlasting doors, give way! • Who is the King of Glory, who?

• The Lord, of glorious pow'r possest,
The King of saints and angels too,
• God over all, for ever blest!",

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Sabbath Day Sweet is the work, o God, our King, To praise thy name, give thanks and sing To shew thy love by morning light, And talk of all thy truth by night.

Sweet is

is the day of sacred rest,
No mortal care should seize our breast;
O may our hearts in tune' be found,
Like David's harp of solemn sound!..

Our heart's should triumph in thee, Lord, And bless thy works, and bless thy word; Thy works of grace, how bright they shine ! How deep thy counsel ! how divine !

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may. we see, and hear, and know, What mortals cannot reach below : May all our pow'rs find sweet employ!.. In Christ's eternal world of joy!

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This is the day the Lord hath made,

He calls the hours his own; 7 101 Let heav'n rejoice, let earth be glad,

And praise surround the throne.

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