We partake the Bread and Wine,
Seals of our Profeffion;
Of the inward Grace the Sign,
Symbols of thy Paffion.
We commemorate thy Death,
While we are receiving,
Feeding in our Hearts by Faith,
With unfeign'd Thanksgiving.
May we thus our Time employ,
While below we tarry!
'Till our Souls t' unfading Joy,
Angels come to carry.
HYMN LXXX.
After the Sacrament.
ORD accept our feeble Praise
For the Banquet given;
Tho' unworthy, we would raise
Hearts and Hands to Heaven.
Of the Streams of Grace divine We have now been tafting; On the Bread and myftic Wine, With rich Comfort feafting.
Meat indeed thy Flefh we find,
Drink thy Blood fo precious;
Jefus, Saviour, thou art kind,
Merciful and gracious!
On our guilty Souls thy Rod
Fall with gentle Chidings;
And thou healeft with thy Blood,
All our great Backflidings.
May we to thy bleeding Crofs,
Soul and Body faften;
All for Jefus count but Lofs,
To his Coming haften!
Take our Hearts fo often bleft,
Yet fo oft rebelling:
Let them on thy Bolom reft,
In thy Wounds ftill dwelling!
Now, O Lord, that we have fed
On thy Body broken,
Bruife within the Serpent's Head,
Of thy Love the Token.
None from Trials are below
Totally exempted,
All-fufficient Grace bestow,
Succour, Lord, the tempted!
Guard us from the Tempter's Wiles,
From the Sin of Judas;
From the World's deceitful Smiles,
'Till to Heav'n thou lead us.
HYMN LXXXI.
Afcribing all Glory to GoD for every
LORY to our gracious Donor,
For his Mercics ever new!
His alone be all the Honour !
Nothing we confess our Due :
O the ceafelefs Mercies flowing
From thy Grace's boundlefs Store!
May our thankful Hearts be glowing
With thy Love, ftill more and more!
S
Thy kind Hand hath oft' afforded
To our Wants a rich Supply;
We are ev'ry Day fupported
By thy providential Eye.
May we, Lord, as fome Requital,
Thankful Hearts to Jefus raife,
In his wond'rous Love's Recital:
Confecrate to him our Days!
Thou, an Hunger haft created
In our Hearts for living Bread;
May it never be abated,
'Till our precious Souls are fed!
Open Lord the Ark, where hidden
Jefus, our true Manna lies;
Are not hungry Spirits bidden
To that Feast of Paradife?
O thou Friend of Sinners, pity
Thirfty Travellers, who go
To an unfeen diftant City,
Thro' a parched Vale below!
O fupply each fainting Spirit,
With the Streams of pureft Love :
'Till our Canaan we inherit,
In thy Fulnefs loft above!
E dies! the Friend of Sinners dies! Lo Salem's Daughters weep around! A folemn Darkness veils the Skies!
A fudden Trembling thakes the Ground!
Come, Saints, and drop a Tear or two,
For him who groan'd beneath your Load!
He fhed a thousand Drops for you!
A thousand Drops of richer Blood!
Here's Love and Grief beyond Degree,
The Lord of Glory dies for Men !
But lo! what fudden Joys we fee!
Jefus the Dead revives again!
The rifing God forfakes the Tomb!
The Tomb in vain forbids his rife !
Cherubic Legions guard him Home,
And thout him welcome to the Skies!
Break off your Tears ye Saints and tell
How high our great Deliv'rer reigns!
Sing how he fpoil'd the Hofts of Hell,
And led the Monster Death in Chains :
Say, "Live for ever, wond'rous King!"
"Born to redeein, and ftrong to fave!"
Then afk the Monfter-"Where's thy Sting?
"And where's thy Victory boafting Grave?"
HYMN LXXXIII.
The Efficacy of the precious Blood of JESUS.
S there a Thing that moves and breaks,
A Heart as hard as Stone,
Or warms a Heart as cold as Ice?
'Tis Jefu's Blood alone:
One Drop of this can truly chear,
And heal the wounded Soul;
What Multitudes of broken Hearts
This living Stream makes whole!
Hark! O my Soul! What fing the Choirs
Around the glorious Throne!
Hark! the flain Lamb for evermore,
Sounds in the fweeteft Tone:
The Elders there caft down their Crowns,
And all, both Night and Day,
Sing Praife to him who fhed his Blood,
And wafh'd their Guilt away.
And this while here, will we proclaim,
Chearful in our Degree,
That thro' the Blood of God's dear Lamb,
Sinners may pardon'd be ;
But thou, O Lord! make ev'ry Day,
Thy Grace to us more fweet,
'Till we behold thy wounded Side,
And worship at thy Feet.
LXXXIV.
The Year of Jubilee.
BLOW ye the Trumpet, blow
The gladly folemn Sound;
Let all the Nations know,
To Earth's remoteft Bound, The Year of Jubilee is come;
Return, ye ranfom'd Sinners, Home!
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