The balm of thy mercy apply,
Thou feeft the fore anguish I feel,
Save, Lord, or I perish, I die,
O fave, or I fink into hell!

I fink, if thou longer delay

Thy pardoning mercy to fhow: Come quickly, and kindly, display The pow'r of thy paffion below; By all thou haft done for my fake, One drop of thy blood I implore; Now, now let it touch me, and make The finner, a finner no more!

HYMN CCXLIV. C. M.

THAT I was as heretofore !
When warm in my first love
I only liv'd my God t' adore,
And feek the things above!

2 Upon my head his candle fhone,
And freely by his grace,
With cords of love he drew me on,
And half unveil'd his face.

3 Butter and honey did I eat,
And lifted up on high,

I faw the clouds beneath my feet,
And rode upon the sky.

4 Far, far above all earthly things
Triumphantly I rode;

I foar'd to heav'n on eagles' wings,
And found and talk'd with God.

5 Where am I now, from what a height Of happiness caft down!

The glory fwallow'd up in night,
And faded is the crown.

6 O God, thou art my home, my rest,
For which I figh in pain!
How fhall I 'fcape into thy breaft,
My Eden now regain?

I

HYMN CCXLV. C. M.

OF

H for a clofer walk with God,
A calm and heav'nly frame;
A light to fhine upon the road
That leads me to the Lamb!

2 Where is the blessedness I knew,
When firft I faw the Lord?
Where is the foul-refreshing view
Of Jefus and his word?

3 What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd;
How fweet their mem'ry ftill!
But they have left an aching void
The world can never fill.

4 Return, O holy Dove, return,
Sweet meffenger of reft:

I hate the fins that made thee mourn,
And drove thee from my breast.

5 The deareft idol I have known,
Whate'er that idol be,

Help me to tear it from thy throne;
And worship only thee.

6 So fhall my walk be clofe with God, Calm and ferene my frame;

So purer light fhall mark the road
That leads me to the Lamb.

ប

I

DEATH AND JUDGMENT.

HYMN CCXLVI. C. M.

TH

HEE we adore, Eternal Name,
And humbly own to thee,
How feeble is our mortal frame,
What dying worms we be!

2 Our wafting lives grow shorter ftill,
As days and months increase ;
And ev'ry beating pulfe we tell,
Leaves but the number lefs.

3 The year rolls round, and steals away
The breath that first it gave:
Whate'er we do, where'er we be
We're trav'lling to the grave.

4 Dangers ftand thick thro' all the ground, To pufh us to the tomb;

And fierce defeafes wait around,
To hurry mortals home.

5 Great God! on what a flender thread
Hang everlafting things!
Th'eternal ftates of all the dead
Upon life's feeble strings!

6 Infinite joy or endless wo,

Depends on ev'ry breath;
And yet how unconcern'd we go
Upon the brink of death!

Waken, O Lord, our drowsy fenfe,
To walk this dang'rous road;
And if our fouls are hurry'd hence,
May they be found with God!

HYMN CCXLVII. C. M.

W

HEN rising from the bed of death,
O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,

I view my Maker, face to face,

O how fhall I appear!

2 If yet while pardon may be found,
And mercy may be fought;

My foul with inward horror fhrinks,
And trembles at the thought!

3 When thou, O Lord, fhalt ftand disclos'd In majefty severe,

And fit in judgment on my foul,
O how fhall I appear!

4 O may my broken, contrite heart,
Timely my fins lament,

And early with repentant tears,
Eternal wo prevent.

5 Behold the forrows of my heart,
Ere yet it be too late;

And hear my Saviour's dying groan,
To give thofe forrows weight.

6 For never shall my foul despair
Her pardon to fecure,

I

Who knows thine only Son hath dy'd
To make that pardon fure.

HYMN CCXLVIII. S. M.

A

ND am I born to die?

To lay this body down?

And muft my trembling spirit fly
Into a world unknown?

2

4

5

A land of deepest shade, Unpierc'd by human thought; The dreary regions of the dead, Where all things are forgot.

Soon as from earth I go,
What will become of me?
Eternal happiness or wo

Muft then my portion be!
Wak'd by the trumpet's found,
I from my grave must rise,
And fee the Judge with glory crown'd,
And fee the flaming fkies!

How fhall I leave my tomb!
With triumph or regret?
A fearful or a joyful doom,
A curfe or blefling meet?
Will angel-bands convey
Their brother to the bar?
Or devils drag my foul away.
To meet its fentence there?

Who can refolve the doubt
That tears my anxious breaft?
Shall I be with the damn'd caft out,
Or number'd with the bleft?
I muft from God be driv'n,
Or with my Saviour dwell:
Muft come at his command to heav'n,
Or elfe depart to hell.

O thou that would'ft not have
One wretched finner die,

Who dy'dft thyfelf, my foul to fave
From endless mifery!