7 While monsters, sporting on the flood,
In fcaly filver fhine,

Speak terribly, their Maker, God,
And lafh the foaming brine.

8 But gentler things fhall tune his name, To foftes notes than these ;

Young zephyrs, breathing o'er the stream, Or whisp'ring thro' the trees.

9 Wave your tall heads, ye lofty pines,
To him that bids you grow:
Sweet clusters, bend the fruitful vines
On ev'ry thankful bough.

to Let the fhrill birds his honours raife, And climb the morning sky;

While grov'ling beafts attempt his praife, In hoarfer harmony.

II Thus while the meaner creatures fing,
Ye mortals take the found;
Echo the glories of your King,
Through all the nations round.

I

T

HYMN CLXVII.

HE God of Abrah'm praise,
Who reigns enthron'd above:
Ancient of everlafting days,
And God of love:

JEHOVAH, GREAT I AM!
By earth and heav'n confefs'd;
I bow and blefs the facred Name,
For ever bleft.

2 The God of Abrah'm praise,
At whofe fupreme command
From carth I rife-and feek the joys
At his right-hand;

3

4

I all on earth forfake,

Its wisdom, fame, and pow'r :
And him my only portion make,
My fhield and tow'r.

The God of Abrah'm praise,
Whofe all-fufficient grace

Shall guide me all my happy days,
In all my ways:

He calls a worm his friend!
He calls himself my God!
And he fhall fave me to the end
Through Jefu's blood!

He by himself hath fworn,
I on his oath depend,

I fhall on eagles' wings up-borne,
To heav'n afcend:

I fhall behold his face,

I shall his pow'r adore,

And fing the wonders of his grace

For evermore.

HYMN CLXVIII. C M.

MY Saviour, my almighty Friend,

When I begin thy praife,

Where will the growing numbers end,
The numbers of thy grace?

2 Thou art my everlasting truft, Thy goodness I adore:

Send down thy grace, O bleffed Lord,
That I may love thee more.

3 My feet fhall travel all the length
Of the celeftial road :

And march with courage in thy ftrength,
To fee the Lord my God.

4 Awake, awake my tuneful pow'rs,
With this delightful fong,
And entertain the darkest hours,
Nor think the season long.

HYMN CLXIX.

1 HIS, this is the God we adore,

155

Our faithful unchangeable Friend;
hofe love is as great as his pow'r,

And neither knows meafure nor end.
2 'Tis Jefus, the First and the Laft,
Whofe Spirit fhall guide us fafe home;
We'll praife him for all that is past,
And truft him for all that's to come.

HYMN CLXX. C. M.

HEN all the mercies of my God,

WMy rifing foul furveys;

Why, my cold heart, art thou not loft
In wonder, love, and praife?

2 Thy providence my life fuftain'd,
And all my wants redrefs'd;
While in the filent womb I lay,
And hung upon the breaft:

3 To all my weak complaints and cries Thy mercy lent an ear;

Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learn'd
To form themselves in pray'r.

4 Unnumber'd comforts on my foul
Thy tender care beftow'd;
Before my infant-heart conceiv'd
From whom those comforts flow'd.

5 When, in the flipp'ry paths of youth,
With heedlefs fteps I ran,

Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe,
And led me up to man.

6 Thro' hidden dangers, toils, and deaths,
It gently clear'd my way;
And thro' the pleafing fnares of vice,
More to be fear'd than they.

7 Through ev'ry period of my life,
Thy goodness I'll purfue;

And after death, in distant worlds,
The pleafing theme renew,

;

8 Through all eternity, to thee,
A grateful fong I'll raise
But O! eternity's too fhort
To utter all thy praise.

I

HYMN CLXXI.

THOU God of my falvation,
My Redeemer from alt fin,

Mov'd to this by great compaffion,
Yearning bowels from within:
I will praise thee:
Where shall I thy praise begin

2 While the angel-choirs are crying, Glory to the great I AM!

3

I with them would ftill be vying,
Glory, glory to the Lamb!
O how precious

Is the found of Jefu's name!

Now I fee, with joy and wonder, Whence the healing ftreams arofe; Angel-minds are loft to ponder Dying love's myfterious caufe; Yet the bleffing,

Down to all, to me it flows.

Though unfeen, I love the Saviour, He almighty grace hath fhown; Pardon'd guilt and purchaf'd favour! This he makes to mortals known, Give him glory,

Glory, glory is his own.

3 Angels now are hov'ring round us, Unperceiv'd they mix the throng, Wond'ring at the love that crown'd us, Glad to join the holy fong: Hallelujah,

t

Love and praise to Christ belong.

H

HYMN CLXXII. C. M.

OW happy ev'ry child of grace,
Who knows his fins forgiv'n!
This earth, he cries, is not my place,
I feek my place in heav'n :